Death Becomes Her
by love.devil.movies.baby
Summary: He wanted to break them all. He had succeeded. Gotham was his. But two refused to break; two refused to go quietly into the night. The Batman and that damned woman… Post Dark Knight, Joker based story. Rated M for adult themes. Joker/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, any of its characters and I am receiving nothing in exchange for this story. It is simply an exercise in entertainment.**

**A/N: Just another thing I needed to get out of my brain based on my current favorite movie and Heath Ledger's last completed work. It is a little bit darker than my usual fare. Enjoy and review if you would like!**

The news was the same as always: violence, death and destruction. That was how it was in Gotham City. If it was not one thing, it was another. At first, there were the typical problems big cities faced. Drug lords, gangs, graffiti, white-collar crime dominated the 5 o'clock hour. Lately, it had gotten worse, much, much worse.

Super villains. That was the issue now. Crazed lunatics ran rampant, blowing things up, killing without discretion. The worst was the Joker. Any other time, a man walking down the street in clown make-up would probably not inspire the fear that this man did. There was an insanity there that the public had never been exposed to before. Scarred inside and out, the Joker had zero empathy, no definite plan. Anyone, anywhere for any reason could become a target. The Joker blew up hospitals, killed city-officials, inspired terror. Within a month, controlled and exploited every iniquity in the city of Gotham. In less than 30 days, the Joker had created such chaos that people rarely left the house, day or night.

In one word, he was evil. And no one could stop him.

Not even Batman. The caped-crusader had first made an appearance nearly six months ago. Most often thought of as a crazed vigilante, he swept around in the darkness, turning the tables on the scum of the city. It was nice to have the bad guys afraid for a change. For a while, life was peachy, people were happy. The slums were shrinking away like ice left in the sun and crime rates dropped drastically. The new D.A. started a city-wide clean up. People were inspired, determined to do their part.

Then the Joker arrived. He started off small, just another psycho to be dealt with. Either Batman or the organized crime leaders would get to him; either way it was of little consequence. How wrong they all were.

His signature cackle was echoing out of the sound system now. Tanya shuddered. As a journalist, she knew she was supposed to be impartial, to remain apathetic. But something about him terrified her to her core. It had been months, and he was still around. No one lasted this long. Not in Gotham.

The news room was silent. It always was now. No one laughed or chatted. You could hear a pen drop. That was the way of the city now, silent as a tomb. Tanya was sitting next to the Editor-in-Chief, Jim, watching the latest raw footage of a Joker attack. An office building's ashes smoldered as Commissioner Gordon assured the city that the terrorist would be caught. Keep hope alive, he instructed. Next to her, her boss sighed and rubbed his temples.

"We're only going to show the last part of the segment," he said, stopping the tape.

"What about the attack?" she knew the answer before the question even left her lips.

"It's nothing the public hasn't seen. It won't do any good to see more death and destruction. That's what the Joker wants."

"I don't think he knows what he wants, except maybe to destroy everything beautiful in the world." Tanya fiddled with the pen between her fingers, her eyes unfocused.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" she knew what Jim meant. It was her job to go out to the scenes of destruction and interview witnesses.

"It's my job isn't it?" she stood up and grabbed the jacket slung over her chair.

"That's not what I asked," Jim's eyes were filled with concern. Tanya knew they were all blessed to have a boss like him.

"I'll be fine. I always am," she winked reassuringly at him. She wished she was not lying.

Minutes later she was outside, bundled against the bitter cold. Her small news team accompanied her to the van. It was routine. They drove to the sight. Tanya stood in front of the wreckage, trying in vain to find people to interview. No one wanted their face on TV. He would see, and God only knows what could happen. Tanya settled once again for the simple interview with some representative from the city. She stood against the stark gray background, trying not to choke on ash and trying to make her face look as if she was listening to the prepared script the government puppet in front of her was spewing.

"Well, you heard it folks," she said with false enthusiasm, shouting slightly to be heard over the wind. "Stay strong Gotham; the storm will pass." she had said this now for weeks. Every week it seemed less truthful.

"Alright, that's that," her cameraman shouted. The sound crew began loading the equipment back into the truck. Tanya stood nearby, watching. She knew that as a reporter, her not interfering with their routine was the most helpful thing she could do. She lounged against the news truck, her long brown legs crossed at the ankle. It felt good to take her weight off of her feet. Her shoes were pointed and uncomfortable. The wind was rushing up under her heather gray pea coat, stirring the fabric and leaving a trail of goosebumps that danced across her dark skin. She shoved a lock of thick auburn hair behind her ear and scoured her pocket for a hair tie. She no longer needed to appear on camera today which meant that simple comforts—flat shoes and jeans and a ponytail—could now be afforded.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a firefighter lingering in the wreckage. He was making no secret of the fact that he was staring at her. Encouraged by her eye contact, he smirked in a confident way, swaggering over to her in his yellow suspended pants.

"Hey baby, I like see that pretty brown face of yours every night on the news. You and those long legs of yours would look good on my arm. What do you say to dinner?" he waggled his eyebrows at her. Tanya felt her eye threatening to twitch. She was in no mood for this banter, and could not see how he could be. Standing on the wreckage of yet another terrorist attack was no place to spark up a relationship. She pursed her full lips, preparing to politely dismiss her admirer.

"No, thank you," she said curtly.

"Why not?" the man was persistent.

"You're not my type," she said.

"Baby," the man puffed up a bit, flexing under his uniform, "I'm everybody's type."

Tanya bit back a laugh. She supposed he was attractive enough, but there was more to men than that. Stimulating conversation, intelligence, humor, these were the qualities she looked for. She knew firsthand the hard knocks an attractive man could deal and was in no hurry to repeat the experience. Luckily, she was saved from having to respond by her camera crew. Tanya jumped into the van, brushing off the last comment by the man as she pulled herself into the van. She exhaled loudly as she flopped into the worn passenger seat.

"Don't know how much more of this the city can take," Chris, the driver, commented somberly as they passed empty street after empty street. Chris was a middle aged man who had come up slums of Gotham during the depression. He had seen more than his fair share of sorrow. As a result, nothing rattled his cage. But as they drove, he started out of the window, a sadness was in his eyes that betrayed just how much living in this city could take out of you.

"Me neither," Tanya agreed softly. The landscape was desolate, gray buildings, tagged walls and the rusted remnants of parks and monuments that must once have been beautiful. They passed the ruins of the central train station. It was taking time to right the wrongs that had already been bestowed on Gotham. The Batman had destroyed the station and tracks months back, defending the city from a crazed plot. Some resented him for it; the Batman had a tendency to tear through the city indiscriminately, wreaking nearly as much havoc as he prevented. Tanya thought that a few cars and one train were a small price to pay for not having the city tear itself apart. However, her opinion was not popular with everyone.

She and Christ returned to the station, entering through the back door. Tanya unwound the scarf from her neck and hung it on her designated hook.

"How about we break for 15, then get this footage edited?" the Chris suggested. She nodded in agreement. The men trickled out, leaving her to flop down with a cup of stale, burnt coffee. She sipped it with a grimace and looked around at her office. It was a small room, almost a closet. She had done her best to brighten the place. Traces of her personal touch were everywhere: pictures of her family hung on the walls and sat on the desk, she had hung curtains in a bright lilac over her one dingy window and a colorful throw rug covered the dismal gray carpeting. Her walls, a dingy white, were covered from corner to corner in news clippings and pictures. After arriving in Gotham, fresh faced and naively optimistic, she had received what could only be described as a culture shock. Gotham's citizens trudged through their day to day. The rich spared not a second though for the poor and the poor were in a better place still than the destitute. She had never carried mace before, but she quickly added it to her purse a month into living here. There had not been much good in Gotham. The constant stories of murders and muggings had threatened to smother the spark of hope she had for the world. She combated it in her own way, namely by taping every positive story (no matter how small) to the walls of her office. Some of the paged had faded and crinkled over time, but she found it comforting, the small tales of compassion. They reminded her that no matter how bad things seemed, the world was not devoid of caring.

She stared at her most recent acquisition, a photo from a charity ball hosted at Wayne manor. Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, put on a hard front in the public eye. He was a difficult character to like, a man who seemed content to drink and party away his parent's fortune, and their good name. Tanya found him fascinating, but not because of his antics. If one looked closely enough, you could tell that Wayne was more than meets the eye. The money he funneled into nearly every charity in the city spoke of someone who cared more for the world than he let on. Tanya had some half planned notion of meeting him one day. She would like to see what kind of man he was for herself. She knew that his past was laced with tragedy and that tragedy has a way of shaping a human. She certainly could sympathize.

A loud bang from somewhere in the front of studio startled her into spilling the remnants of her coffee. Tanya scrambled to wipe it up, moving toward the door to find out what the sound was. She was willing to bet that someone had dropped a camera. There would be hell to pay if it was broken. She swung her door open and poked her head out.

The sounds of gunshots sent her scrambling back into her office and under her desk. Part of her had expected this to happen one day, especially after Mike Engle had been taken hostage a month back. However, now that she was living this nightmare, she found herself spiraling into panic. She could hear screams, the screams of her coworkers, echoing down the hall. It sounded like a troupe of elephants was rampaging through. Glass smashed, footsteps thundered and the shooting continued. Then she heard the worst sound of all.

The Joker's voice rang out, not enhanced or dulled by technology, but clear and terrifying.

"Good evening! Ladies and gentlemen, this night can go one of two ways. We just want what we came for, and we'll be on our way. Co-operate and no one will get hurt. Or at least, no one will die." He laughed that terrible, bone-chilling laugh.

"What do you want?" that was Jim's voice, authoritative as ever.

"That pretty little reporter of yours, the one that covers my handiwork," there was the laugh again, "You know who I'm talking about? Curly hair, pouty lips, voice like sugar? " Tanya felt instant nauseous. It swooped in with the fear, paralyzing her. Her heart pounded a frantic rhythm in her chest.

"Tanya's not here," Jim spoke again.

"No? Are you sure about that?" the Joker sounded genuinely curious, the way one might sound if they were soliciting door to door.

"Yes," she heard Jim's voice waver. He was feeling the fear too, she was sure of it.

"Well then, that's too bad." The footsteps continued, coming ever nearer to her door. Tanya was shaking, crouching behind her desk. She heard the thugs crashing about, and several women screaming. She could run, she could run right now and never be found. Frantically she glanced around, spotting her window. She leapt to her feet and rushed toward it, clawing to get it open. The frame squealed in protest as the window scraped up the track. The cool air blew in chilling her to the bone. It was like a savior. She hoisted her leg up and positioned it outside of the window. It took more dexterity than she thought she was capable of to maneuver herself into position. She was nearly out when a scream sounded again. Incredible guilt nudged in the back of her mind, outweighing the fear. The people out there, her friends and colleagues, were going to be killed brutally if she ran. She knew that even if she escaped, she could never live with herself if afterwards.

Taking a deep breath, she made a decision that could cost her life. She wiggled back out of the window, placed her shaking feet firmly onto the carpeted floor, and walked out of her office. It took what felt like an eternity to walk down the hallway she knew so well. She had a fleeting thought that this was her death march. If this was to be her end, then she would go without fear. She steadied her gait, and then plunged headlong into the newsroom.

The sight that met her was worse than any nightmare she had ever had. The Joker had Jim pinned down to a desk, a knife in his mouth. He was grinning, happy with the chaos and the look of fear in her boss' eyes.

"Did I ever tell you how I got these scars?" he asked, his voice deceptively conversational. He wiggled the knife idly, drawing blood.

"Stop!" Tanya suddenly found her voice. The Joker looked up, greasy, black rimmed eyes gleeful. With a casual flick of his wrist, he cut Jim and then straightened to standing. Jim rolled to the ground with a groan, leaving a wet trail of crimson behind him. Her coworkers were huddled in various places, clutching each other, some bleeding and already bruised. No one moved to help Jim or her. The Joker did not need guns to control the population. His reputation was more than enough.

"Well, well, well. Hello gorgeous." he sauntered toward her. He was more grotesque than cameras depicted. The white cream of his make-up was running together in the creases of his skin, mixing with the red and black. Up close the scars were worse, rising from his face in a cruel charade of a smile. "I was afraid you weren't going to show up. Then we'd have to go through these fine people one by one until we found you. That would be a shame. Who would cover my little escapades?" The Glasgow smile drew back and widened.

"What do you want with me?" he was circling her now, like some kind of vulture.

"So quick to get to the root of the problem. I was always admired your journalistic prowess." this game amused him; her fear, evident as she wrapped her arms around herself, it all amused him. He reached out and grabbed her; instinctively she shied away. He laughed in response. "I'm not going to hurt you," he lowered his voice to a purr. "You're far too useful for that." Tanya felt her heart stutter, certain that she was having a heart attack. She had no such luck. The Joker turned around to his thugs. "Let's go boys!"

Several of the thugs shot off their guns just to hear the screams. They filed out of the doors, kicking bodies and wreckage aside indiscriminately and taking computers, laptops and cameras with them. The Joker turned his painted face back to her.

"Ready, my dear?" He smiled at her, his voice a shallow imitation of Clark Gable. He seized her around the waist. She fought, kicking, screaming, and attempting to pull his hair. It was to no avail. The Joker swung her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift as though she was nothing more than a piece of luggage.

"No!" This time the scream did not come from Tanya's lips. Jim was up again, his face covered in blood. Without sparing him a look, the Joker raised his gun and fired.

It was Tanya's turn to scream. She screamed as he carried her out of the front doors. She screamed as he tossed her bodily into the back of the dark van. She screamed as the musty bag went over her head. She screamed for Jim, she screamed for herself, she screamed for the world she lived in. She screamed until she felt the butt of a gun connect with the back of her head and her world slid into a miserable darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Tanya awoke to a head-splitting pain. A chill had settled over her, sharpening and coming more into focus as she regained awareness. Pain was all around her, smothering her, threatening to force her back into unconsciousness. Survival instinct kicked in and she felt adrenaline course through her veins. She needed to escape, to find out where she was. Beneath her cheek she felt the cold, flat, press of concrete on her skin. Tanya sat up slowly, her head spinning. She groaned and raised her hand gingerly to her head. Her hair was matted with what she suspected was blood. She tenderly felt her scalp, wincing in pain at the gash she felt. She lowered her arm, stunned to see her fingers stained crimson. The seriousness of her situation came rushing back to her. She turned her head, every muscle in her body screaming in pain, desperately trying to get her bearings.

She was in a concrete room with no windows and only one door. A lone light bulb flickered from the ceiling. The room was damp and dank and barren except for her and a chair. She pulled herself wearily to her feet. Tanya noticed she was missing a heeled shoe. She kicked the other off and thanked whatever luck she had that she her hands had not been tied.

Tanya made her way to the wall, feeling along it for any kind of escape. She tried the door first, and was not surprised to find it locked. Her mind whirred, formulating another plan. Wincing with every step, she dragged the wooden chair to the far wall. It took all of her strength to stand herself up and even then, she climbed it unsteadily, trying to reach the small vent at the top of the wall. After ten minutes of trying, she was forced to acknowledge that she was barely able to touch it, and even then, she realized that it was far too small for her to get through anyway. Dejected, she slammed her hands against the concrete in frustration. Her palms burned with the effort. The force of the hit pushed her and the chair over. She toppled, connecting hard with the solid ground. The chair splintered around her. She lay down in pain, eyes prickling. Her hip and legs burned in pain.

She could think of nothing to do but cry. She had no idea what was in store for her, but she was sure it was nothing good. She remembered Jim, and prayed he was alive and well. The image of the bodies that had taken the force of the explosion in the office flashed in her mind. She sobbed louder. Tanya allowed pity to consume her, shaking with the effort, with the pain, with desperation.

The silence was broken by footsteps in the hall. Tanya bolted upright in fear. She needed something, anything, to defend herself. Her eyes fell to the remains of the chair. She seized a splintered leg and propelled herself to the corner farthest from the door. She wiped the tears from her face and braced herself. She might die here, but she decided then and there that she would not give him the pleasure of seeing her break down. With difficulty, she pushed herself up, bracing her back against the wall.

The door swung open slowly. A purple-clad leg became just visible through the darkness. Tanya inhaled sharply, trying to calm her alarm. The Joker entered her cement cage. Grease-rimmed brown eyes scanned the room, finally lingering on her form. His smile stabbed fear into her heart. She applied all of her journalistic training to try and keep her face passive.

"Up and at 'em already are we?" he closed the door. The lock clicked, echoing hollowly. Each footstep he took toward her reverberated against the stone walls. He was standing in front of her now. Tanya gritted her teeth. The Joker's eyes flickered to the makeshift club in her hands. "Going to hit me sweetheart?" His head tilted quizzically and his brows went up. "Better do it now before I use it on you."

Tanya swallowed the lump in her throat. "What do you want with me?" her voice surprised her, it was hoarse and cracked.

"There really is no pleasing you, is there? I just offered you a cheap shot at me and you refused. And you broke my chair," he walked to the pile and kicked the pieces nonchalantly. Tanya inched her way along the walls quietly. "No use trying to get out of the door," he turned around, shooting her a look over his shoulder.

Tanya stopped moving. "You never answered my question." it came out far less authoritative then she would have liked.

"Pushy aren't we? The beautiful ones always are," he turned, filthy green locks sticking to the cream on his face. In four steps he was across the room. In five seconds, the chair leg was pried from her grasp and tossed across the room to the far corner. In two more seconds she was pinned against the wall, his face just inches from her own. Tanya's chest began heaving as she struggled to control her breathing. Her brown eyes were wide, locked on his. He was close enough that she could see patches of tan skin peaking out of the make-up.

"Pardon my manners," his voice was low and almost seductive, "I'd offer you a seat, but it seems that you smashed it. Were you trying to get into the vent?" Tanya's breath hitched. He knew too much.

"I thought so." he turned his eyes upward, apparently deep in thought. His mouth opened and closed, creating a sort of smacking sound. "If you were up on the chair, then that must mean that you were trying to escape." his eyes flashed back to hers.

"Tanya Heathrow, right? Oldest child of three girls, originally from Chicago. Family moved to Gotham in 1993. Father and mother live in the suburbs at 602 E. Maple Dr. The youngest sister is in New York, lives with her boyfriend. Parents aren't too happy about that. Middle girl lives with her husband in the city in the Terraceview Condos on Central, top floor, gorgeous penthouse. She's pregnant. Thrilled by it, looked like. Beautiful family all around." He smacked his lips again and leaned even closer. "You try to escape again, Tanya, and I will personally make sure that everyone you love will pay, one by one. Are we clear?"

His lips were brushing her ear and she could feel the scars brush her cheeks. Tanya nodded slowly, tears falling down her nose and dripping down her face.

"I knew you were sensible." he pressed his mouth into her cheek, leaving a blood-red stain. He was gone as quickly as he came. Tanya slunk to the floor, completely broken. He knew about her family, where they lived, down to the exact address. She balled up into the fetal position, willing herself to pass out again and not wake up.

She did not know how long he kept her in that dark room. The door would open periodically and someone would deposit food and water. A bucket was also provided for her. She became lost to her demons, spending most of her time in fitful sleep. Her dreams were always the same. She thought about her life. She remembered her first glimpse of Gotham. It was cleaner then, at least for a big city. People were prospering. She recalled her parent's friends, how persuasive their argument was. How enticing it all seemed, how happy her parents were.

Gotham had been a city of motion then, full of color, sight and sound. A child could develop ambitions here, grow into anything she wanted. It all changed in the depression. By the time she went to college, Gotham was just a shade of what it had been. She remembered conversations with her roommate Julie, the empowerment she had felt. They were going to change the world, starting with Gotham. It was for their generation. They campaigned, ran clean ups, did outreach work. But Julie had been killed, on a charity trip to the slums. It changed Tanya, forced her to adjust her methods. She might not have been able to storm in, head high, armor gleaming, but she could still help. She recalled the nervousness of her first day at her internship, the way the fluorescent lighting cast the room in a faint golden glow, her first job. How she had been turned away because of her youth. Meeting Jim and having him give her the first serious assignment she had ever had.

Laced with these thoughts were the Joker. His painted face smiling savagely as he systematically eliminated the people in her life one at a time. Jim's bloodied form crumpling to the ground in pain. Her sisters wearing his trademark Chelsea grin.

And then there was the incident. The one she had worked for so hard to suppress, to prove to herself that it had not beat her, it would not change her. She saw it replayed, felt the pain. Had it reenacted in her mind's eye time after time with different faces. She always woke up in cold sweat.

She counted time in meals. She estimated she got two meals a day. 16 plates of stale bread and stinking meat. Her entire body ached and a fever burned and she feared that each time she closed her eyes to sleep, it would be her last. The wound on her head bled periodically, to the point where she was forced to remove her shirt, the only buffer she had against the chill of unheated concrete, to make a bandage. The room stank from the already full bucket of waste.

The only thing that kept her going was stubborn pride. She would not let him kill her this way. She would die like Jim, but not like an animal in a cage.

This pride kept a spark in her eyes, and it was that spark the Joker saw when he finally came back. Tanya woke up to him kneeling beside her, inspecting her face and bra-clad form with a casual curiosity. Her eyes met his with a bitterness that would have frightened a man with feelings.

"Wakey, wakey," he waggled his fingers in front of her face. "Get up," he instructed, seizing her roughly by the arm. Tanya complied, summoning the strength to follow him out of the door and down the hall. The light nearly blinded her after so many days of darkness. He forced her into another door a few feet down the hall. They were in a stark white, tiled bathroom. There was a metal tub along the back wall, and a sink and a toilet. She felt the bitter sting of knowing that this whole time a bathroom had been only 100 yards away.

"Get in," the Joker gestured to the tub. She looked at him uncertainly.

"Why?" her voice was barely a whisper.

"Ah, she speaks. I was afraid you had lost your voice. And, in response to your question, have you seen yourself?" her eyes narrowed involuntarily. He smirked. "I guess not. Let's just say you aren't scoring a ten on the attractiveness scale," he pointed at the mirror over the sink. Tanya tentatively moved in front of it.

She did not recognize the stranger reflected there. Her normally immaculate hair was matted and coated in blood. Her face was drawn and ashen; dark circles were under her blood shot eyes. The gash on her head peaked out past her hairline. She looked broken.

"See what I mean?" his laugh bounced off of the tile. "Get in," he repeated. Tanya climbed in. "Uh, last time I checked-correct me if I'm wrong darling- but normally people don't bathe fully clothed."

Tanya opened her mouth to protest but snapped it shut again. His eyes were sparkling in glee. Defiantly, she striped the soiled clothing and tossed it out of the tub. He smiled.

"You're a sparkplug aren't you?" he removed his violet jacket. For a terrifying moment, she thought he was going to get in with her, or worse. Instead, he pushed up the sleeves of his dress shirt and grinned. "Let's get you spruced up." He sat at the edge of the tub and turned on the water. It was ice cold. Tanya gasped in horror, her bruised body prickling.

"Too cold?" he asked.

Tanya gritted her teeth. "No."

The Joker pushed her head under the faucet. She sputtered as he roughly washed the blood out of her hair and face. Through the gush of icy water in her ears, she could hear that horrible laugh. She refused to even whimper, but kept her eyes wide open, unmoving from his face. This seemed to amuse him. He tossed a bottle of shampoo at her after a few minutes.

"I think you can handle it from here." He said before leaving.

Tanya sat up unsteadily and fiddled with the knobs above her. After a few seconds, warm water coursed over her sore muscles. She relished in the feel of it for a moment. Then she began cleaning herself up. To her surprise, there was a razor and a washcloth on a shelf by the faucet. She shaved and washed the blood out of her hair. Afterwards she climbed out, wrapped in a towel that was hanging on the rack. She inspected her reflection again. Much better.

Tanya opened the medicine cabinet. Inside was taped a note, scrawled in blood red ink.

**_Look your best._**

She took out a comb, a toothbrush and a blow dryer. Tanya inspected them for a moment, wondering what on earth the point of all this was. She weighed her options, what would happen to her is she did not comply. Her family flashed in her mind, causing her to nearly drop the blow dryer. She stared at the mirror for a moment, sighed, and went to work.


	3. Chapter 3

45 minutes later Tanya emerged, still wrapped in a towel. A thug was at the door. He leered at her.

"Hey sexy," he licked his lips. She recognized this man. He was one of Maroni's thugs, one that she had helped expose. Panic gripped her. She back stepped, trying to get back into the bathroom. She had no such luck. The thug, (Moretti, if she remembered correctly) had already seized her arm.

"Where you going beautiful?" hers eyes widened with the fear even more intense than what she felt for the Joker.

She grappled for the doorknob behind her, desperately trying to get in. Moretti pressed her hard into the door, the metal handle digging into her lower back. All fight ebbed out of her. She started to slink down towards the floor as he reached for the towel. Tanya let her mind go blank, convinced that she had no chance of overpowering this man. His breathing was heavy in her ear, and as his hand brushed her bare, moist skin she felt nausea overtake her. She prayed silently for it to be over, bracing herself for the worst.

Footsteps sounded faintly in the distance, but sped up, increasing in pace. Tanya chanced a glance ans was surprised to see the face of the last man she desired to see. All trace of mirth was gone from his expression, replaced with anger. The Joker came barreling around the corner and threw the Moretti off of her. Tanya almost lost her towel and the thug went flying, yanking at the only barrier she had. She screamed and jerked away, spinning, looking for an out. She took the opportunity to swing the bathroom door open and race inside. She slammed it closed and threw the lock and sat shaking, her back braced against the door. Her knuckles were white, death-gripping the towel around her.

"What did you think you were doing?" the Joker's voice was cold, with no hint of his trademark humor.

"C'mon boss, I was just gonna have a little fun. That ain't against the law now, is it?" Moretti attempted to justify himself, his voice laced with a poison cockiness. There was a scuffling sound before Tanya felt something slam into the door behind her. She closed her eyes, trying to bite back tears.

"The only law around here is my law. What I say goes." the Joker's voice was little more than a hiss, but Tanya heard every word. "And I remember saying not to touch her. Don't you?"

The only response was a banging and scraping of shoes against the door. Tanya wanted to cover her ears, but something inside of her needed to hear. She heard Moretti scream a deep, throaty cry of pain she never expected or even knew existed. Unable to take it anymore, she slammed her hands over her ears, trying to find a happy place in her mind. The faint sounds of something smacking the door and then rolling to the floor still worked their way into her consciousness. Then it all went silent. She slowly uncovered her ears.

"Open the door," she heard the Joker's command. Not wanting to test him, she stood up, unlocked the door and swung it open. His hulking figure filled the doorway. He was smiling a strange little half smile, and holding, to her horror, a small, very bloody knife. She backed up and he pushed past her, exposing Moretti lying on the ground. He was sporting a blood drenched shirt and the same smile the Joker wore, gasping for air. With every painful attempt to breathe, the flaps of his ruined face blew open and blood and saliva flowed out of his mouth. His eyes were locked on Tanya's, gray and fading quickly.

With one last Herculean effort, he spat at her. "Bitch," he muttered. With a last blood-laced cough, the final light left his eyes. Blood flecked the once white towel. Tanya gasped and moved backward, straight into the Joker's chest. She spun around, unsure of what she would rather look at, the bloodied and mutilated body in front of her, or the man who had done it. The Joker dried his now clean knife on the bottom of her towel.

"It's so hard to find good help these days. Wouldn't you agree?" he said with the air of someone discussing the weather. Tanya clutched the towel closer to her.

"Relax sweet cheeks, I just killed the guy who was going to rape you. You should be hugging me," he opened his arms as though inviting her embrace.

Appalled, she found her voice. "I wouldn't be in this situation if it wasn't for you in the first place." He laughed.

"Touché. Ah well, what's one less crook huh?" he patted her cheek. Tanya pulled away, disturbed. "Don't look so serious sugar tits," he walked to the rack where his jacket still hung from earlier and pulled it on. She could see a glimpse of the inside, lined with glinting knives. He tucked the most recently used inside it with the others.

"Like my collection? I find knives more fun than guns. Guns are too quick. You get a better view of a person when you use a knife," he winked at her and turned to the mirror. He smoothed his dirty hair back and fiddled with his make-up. "You need clothes. Not that the population wouldn't be thrilled by you doing the news naked." Tanya raised her eyebrow.

"I'm not doing the news. I'm here."

"So small minded. You see, the beauty of technology is that you can broadcast anything from anywhere to anyone. Which is convenient for a person of my profession, whose job takes him all over." he stepped past her and into the hallway. Not wanting to be alone with the body, Tanya rushed to catch up, her bare feet nearly slipping in the pool of blood near the door. The Joker was holding open the door to the room she had been held in earlier. She stepped inside timidly.

"I think I got a pretty good estimate of your size. The clothes are complements of the crime lords of Gotham." He snapped the door shut. Tanya inspected a pile of clothing in the corner. It was tailor-made and of expensive fabric. There was even a change of underwear. She pulled them on, eager to be covered. They fit like a glove. She tried not to dwell on how he had her measurements. She lifted up the red and black outfit that was folded on the ground. It was a one piece body suit, complete with a hood. Confused, she inspected it, recognition finally occurring. It was a harlequin outfit, a red and black court jester looking thing, with a collar and a hood complete with the two pronged pieces and bells. In short, it was ridiculous. She thought about stalling, but was afraid of what the consequences would be. Tanya pulled the outfit on with some difficulty and found that she could not zip it up unaided. Sighing, she pushed open the door.

The Joker was leaning on the wall outside of the room, idly flipping a joker card between his fingers. He inspected her with a smile. "Se manifique!" he kissed his hand.

"I couldn't zip it up," she said with a tone of embarrassment. She knew that she should be more afraid then bashful, but her face flushed anyway. The clothes did not leave much to the imagination, and even though he had already seen her naked, she felt mortified. He motioned for her to turn around. She did and he jerked the zipper up.

"Now you only need the make-up." In his hand was a tube of red lipstick. Flashes of his victims, all wearing the red smile that was his calling card, came to mind. She stumbled backward.

The Joker made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Now, now, now, just stay still and this will all go faster and easier." Tanya shut her eyes tightly. She felt the wax of the stick across her lips and cheeks. She also felt him rubbing something across her eyelids. When he was finished, she opened her eyes to come face to face with her reflection in a small, round mirror. She looked outlandish. She was a female version of the Joker, sans the scars. Heavy black shadow coated her eyes and even though she was scowling, the red gave the impression of a goofy smile.

"Do you like it? I have to say, black and red are your colors." He squeezed her face between his hands, the way older family members did when you were a child and they told you how much you had grown.

"What do you want me to do?" she said, unwilling to let emotion show on her face.

"Exactly what I tell you to," his eyes flashed.

She followed him outside to a series of cop cars. Inside were police officers or people dressed to resemble officers. There had to have been at least five vehicles, including a SWAT fan. Something in the back of her mind connected this with an earlier story she had done on stolen police paraphernalia. The Joker pushed her toward the van. She hesitated at the back door, recalling the last time she was put in a van. Irritated, the Joker hefted her into the back and pushed her down onto one of the benches inside. He flopped down next to her. The inside of the van was freezing cold, and as the small fleet of counterfeit law enforcement began to move, Tanya found herself shivering both from the temperature and the anticipation of what was to come. The Joker was humming lightly to himself. He pulled out a deck of cards.

'Slap jack?" he asked pleasantly. Tanya just looked at him. "Suit yourself." He shrugged and tucked the cards back into his jacket. She lost herself in her thoughts, wondering what her purpose was in all of this. After a few minutes the car came to a halt. The Joker stood up and left the van, shutting her in with a wink. Tanya pressed her ear to the cool metal sides, listening, trying to figure out what was going on. She could not hear anything.

She paced the inside of the van, jiggling the door handle, looking for a way out. Ten minutes later, she gave up and flopped to the bench. Five minutes after that, and despite her dire situation, exhaustion claimed her and she fell asleep. The scraping of metal doors being opened jolted her awake. Two disguised thugs hauled her out of the van. They were in front of a bank. She walked through the double glass doors. Inside employees and customers were bound, gagged and rigged to what looked like a rather large bomb. In the center of the chaos was the Joker. A machine gun was slung casually over his shoulder. He turned to her.

"Time to find out what you're here for," he told her. As if on a cue, three of his thugs ran forward, holding cameras and other broadcasting equipment. Tanya's heart skipped. She knew what she was. The Joker had chosen her as his mouthpiece. She was one of the most trusted and well-known reporters in Gotham. By kidnapping her, the voice who urged them to never give up hoping, he could demoralize the city. By dressing her like a literal clown, and forcing her to report on all of his malfeasants, he could instigate much more fear than just killing her would do.

A microphone was forced into her hands and she was positioned in front of the camera. The hostages looked at her with wide eyes. She was horrified to see children and elderly people among them. Most adults looked at her with recognition and confusion.

"As you can see ladies and gentlemen, your beloved reporter is not dead. She's just working for me now," he laughed again. A child began to sniffle and cowered closer to his mother. Tanya looked at him with pity. The Joker approached her, pushing a stack of cue cards into her free hand.

"Read these," he instructed, jerking her hood up and over the mass of curls. She shuffled through them. They were terrorist demands.

"If I do this, will you let them go?" she pleaded with him. He just smiled.

"We'll let the fine citizens of Gotham decide that. You're on in five." He stepped out of the way of the camera.

Tanya took a breath and bit back the tears that threatened to break free. She needed to be strong, for the hostages and for the citizens. The red light on the camera went on.

"Citizens of Gotham," she began. She kept her chin up and her voice steady, not betraying her inner feelings. "This is Tanya Heathrow reporting from the Gotham City Upper City Bank. The Joker would like me to report that you as citizens are faced with a dilemma. Wired to a large amount of nitroglycerin is all of the money in this bank as well as all of the money in 15 other banks in Gotham City. They are set to blow in half an hour at 5:30 p.m. You can stop the destruction of nearly 75% of the money in Gotham. However, there is a catch." She began moving, forcing the camera to move with her, until she was positioned next to the child clutching his mother.

"Also wired are 47 hostages, of various ages. You have a choice, citizens. Either the hostages can go free, or the money. You now have 28 minutes to respond. If the mayor does not make his decision, and call the bank within the allotted time, both money and hostages will be destroyed. If he does, one goes free. The choice is yours." Tanya allowed her eyes to plead with the camera. As it faded out, the Joker began to laugh hysterically. The camera went off and the thugs took the equipment away.

"Let the game begin," the Joker checked his watch. Tanya knelt next to the child and his mother.

"It will be ok," she mouthed, praying that it would be. She felt the Joker behind her. Tanya stood up, forcing herself to turn and meet his eyes.

"Good job, sweetheart. I was right to pick you. You're much cooler under pressure than that blonde bozo I used last time." Tanya bit the inside of her cheek. Mike Engel, the reporter to whom he was referring, was a friend of hers.

"I did what you told me to," she said stiffly.

"You left out your trademark sign off. Why was that?" he leaned next to her, giving her a look of genuine interest.

"Your laugh drowned out anything I would have said anyway. I'll be sure to get it in next time," the bitterness spewed out before she thought of the consequences. Thankfully, the Joker found it amusing rather than insulting.

He laughed again. "Glad to know it's not because you think there is no hope left. Maybe the next 20 minutes will change that."

"I doubt it," she pulled the ridiculous hood off of her head and shook out her afro of ringlets.

"Don't be so sure. The people who make this decision are the people with the majority of money in these banks. They're not as high and mighty and moral as you, honey." Tanya knew he was right, but refused to believe they would let the hostages die.

"If they let these people die, they'll have an uprising on their hands."

He shrugged. "Either option creates chaos, and that works for me." he wound his arm around her waist. "Smile for the people gorgeous; that frown is making them nervous." he kissed her cheek again.

The next 20 minutes passed by in utter agony. Tanya sat on the ground, trying her best to distract the hostages. The child had shied away from her; her makeup was too frightening. The Joker was leaning casually on the teller stand, checking his watch every so often. Tanya was sweating, the makeup dripping into her eyes. Only the ring of a phone cut through the silence. During the wait it had rung with various mayor impersonators, each demanding that the hostages be released, or that the money be spared. There were five minutes left. The phone rang again. Tanya stiffened.

"Hello Mayor," The Joker answered pleasantly. "Have you made a decision?"


	4. Chapter 4

_The bomb detonated. An explosion rocked the bank, debris and shards of glass rocketed in every direction. Those lucky enough to get out of the doors were thrown forward. Those who were less lucky were either incinerated or impaled with bits of wood, metal and glass. Above the din of the blaring alarms, the smoke, the flames, and the screams was that damned laugh. Like the pain and destruction were funny. But that wasn't what was entertaining him. The efforts of the masked and caped man trying to save as many as he could was what amused him. It was a continuation of his game. He enjoyed watching the struggle, using people like pawns on a board for his own devices. The screams meant nothing. The only thing that held his attention was the Batman, his most formidable challenge. The only man he had yet to break…_

Tanya woke up with a fever. Every inch of her body was stiff and bruised form the explosion. She remembered seeing Batman burst in through the skylight and take out about ten thugs in a minute, the faces of the hostages as he ripped them free, how they had run to the door, desperately trying to escape, watching the Joker hit both of the detonators, being thrown through the air by the force of the explosion. The sickening crunch as bone connected with concrete and then the searing pain and finally darkness…

She struggled to sit up, gasping at the effort and the stab she felt in her chest. She examined herself. The harlequin outfit was destroyed; the tattered remains clung to her, exposing her stomach and most of her legs. She was covered in ash, with a myriad of cuts and bruises twisting and climbing up her body. She was drenched in sweat. In short, she was in a significant amount of pain. She felt her ribs gingerly. Nothing seemed broken, but she was not a doctor. She wondered what time it was.

She also wondered where she was. She was not in the concrete room, but in a soft bed. The room was dimly lit, but well furnished. Tanya climbed out of the king bed, wincing as her bare feet hit the wood paneling of the floor. She walked to the first door she saw. It was locked. She tried a second and came face-to-face with a closet full of rather nice clothing. A third door led her to a bathroom, complete with a large, Jacuzzi-style tub, a separate shower, and candles of different scents.

She must be dead. That was the only explanation for her surroundings. Too tired and in pain to do much thinking, she figured that as long as she had died, she might as well clean herself up. The initial shower was a bit of a struggle. The silk of her outfit clung to many of her cuts, and when she removed it, they re-opened. The water ran red down the drain for quite some time before she was able to get in under control. Satisfied that she would not be bathing in a stew of her own filth, she climbed out of the shower and into the tub. It was heaven. The jets relaxed her muscles and kept the water warm. As she relaxed, the faces of all of the hostages came flashing back to her one by one. She choked down sobs. She wondered if any had survived, if Batman had succeeded.

She wondered where the Joker was, and when he would come for her again.

A knock on the door made her jump, sloshing water down the sides of the tub. The knob was rattling as someone unlocked the door. Panicking, she leapt out of the tub as fast as possible, groping for a towel. She just managed to cover the front of her body when the door opened.

Salvatore Maroni was staring at her with extreme distaste. Tanya's eyes widened.

"You're up," he said, his voice hard. "Was wondering how long you'd be out."

"What, where-"

"You're in my house. That freak in the clown suit brought you here for a while or something. I don't know," his voice dripped disdain, but the fact that the Joker intimidated Gotham's most ruthless boss into hiding his hostages, in fancy rooms at that, spoke volumes.

"Oh, is…is he coming back for me?" she could not keep the terror out of her voice. Maroni noticed. His voice softened a fraction.

"Yeah, honey, I'm afraid he is." He looked at her sympathetically. Tanya blinked in rapid succession, trying to avoid crying in front of yet another criminal. Maroni patted her shoulder awkwardly.

"He's probably not going to be back for a while," he offered as some small comfort. "In the meantime, enjoy yourself. You can't leave the wing you're in, but you should be comfortable. There's food out there." He nodded his head in the direction of the bedroom.

"Thank you," Tanya managed to choke out.

"Don't worry about it. The wife and I, we always liked you on the news. You have a good voice." She smiled weakly. He nodded, and then left before an uncomfortable silence could stretch between them.

Tanya once again found herself held captive, though it was undeniably more comfortable this time around. The meals were better; Maroni was still very rich, and out of sympathy for her or fear of the Joker, or both, he treated her well. His wife came in every once in a while, mostly when she was bored and alone while Maroni was off doing whatever unethical and immoral things he did on a day to day basis. These visits were mostly rather uncomfortable. Tanya had very little in common with Mrs. Maroni. Also, she found it odd that someone could love someone else who was such a terrible person. She watched them together sometimes, when they thought she could not hear them or was not looking; it was obvious that they had very real feelings for each other. She pondered this phenomenon when she lay alone at night, staring at the ceiling.

Most often, though, she wondered where the Joker was and when he was coming back. She wondered if anyone was looking for her, or if they assumed she was a lost cause. The thought kept her awake tossing and turning. She watched the news on the television in her room, searching for some hint. So far, she was simply reported as missing, even though it was said without much hope. There was no word on her family. She prayed that they were alright.

The real shock came one night. She was half listening to the news while she wrote in a notebook she had found in the bedside table. Tanya had taken to writing down the things she saw, mostly out of necessity to be doing something, but also with the secret fear that when she was dead, this would be the only way anyone would know what had happened to her. She was writing when something caught her eye on the news.

It was Jim. He was reporting on the latest attempts to catch the Joker. Her heart caught in her breast and she quickly groped for the remote control to turn it up. He was alive, the same intelligent spark burned in his eyes. It was accompanied by something else though, a hardened expression of someone who had a vendetta against another. He was talking now, urging the city to resist the fear and chaos the Joker was inspiring.

"He is just a man," Jim insisted, no hint of fear in his tone, "and a man can be stopped. Remember Gotham, he only maintains control so long as we allow him to. Resist. Good will always prevail."

Tanya watched him, tears of pride in her eyes. Not only were his word brave, but so was his very decision to appear on television. His once youthful and handsome face was now scarred on one side, a perfect imitation of the Joker's smile. However, his scar was not a sign of evil or terror, but a badge of pride, proof that he has come face to face with evil and survived. Proof that he refused to give up, that he kept fighting.

Jim's image swam in and out of Tanya's dreams that night. She dreamt that he came and rescued her. He was carrying her away from her prison when mid-dream, his face morphed, becoming the Joker. The dream repeated itself, night after night, until Tanya grew used to it. She feared what it meant, but brushed it off as delirium.

A week and a half later she walked out of the bathroom from yet another bath and was greeted by the sight of a strange man sitting on her bed.

"We need to stop meeting like this, gorgeous," the stranger's voice was familiar. Tanya squinted at him.

He was dirty blonde, his clean hair falling just above shoulder-length. His hazel eyes were sparkling with mirth, set off by tan skin. She squinted at him in confusion for a moment. Then he smiled.

Tanya nearly dropped her towel. Instead, she dropped her jaw.

"Miss me?" he asked, "It's easier to get in Maroni's house when I blend in with the masses."

She just continued to stare. She could not process that the man sitting in front of her was the Joker. He was not the horrible person who blew up buildings. She would have refused to believe it, but there they were: two raised scars spanning from the corners of his mouth an inch or two up into his cheeks. They looked far less threatening now, giving him the impression of a lost little boy. Only his eyes said differently. They were cold and hard, the way they always had looked through the makeup.

"This is a very interesting read," he held up her notebook. "Do you really think all of these things about me?" he thumbed through it. "Let's see, I'm sadistic, lack empathy, in short, evil." He snapped the book shut. "If I were all of those things," he stood up and walked until he was right in front of her, "would I have set you up in such a cushy place?"

"I figured you were just buttering me up for something much worse." Tanya hoisted the towel higher, trying to shield herself.

"Now what have I ever done to make you think that?" he wrapped one arm around her waist. His eyes changed, softening just slightly. Tanya noticed.

"You kidnapped me, threatened to kill my family, locked me in a room for days, forced me into a clown outfit, made me report on your terrorist demands, and got me blown up," she rattled off the laundry list of offenses, wondering why he was holding her like this, trying to see if he had a knife or some other weapon.

"Forgive and forget," he pulled her body into his own. His other hand worked its way into her hair, gently fingering a lock. She comforted herself with the knowledge that at least she now knew he was not holding a knife. Tanya contemplated pushing him away. He was nuzzling her neck, making it damn near impossible to think. What the hell was he doing? And damn it, why did it have to almost feel good? She regained coherent thought and pressed her palms to his chest, pushing him away enough for her to duck under his arm and away.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked point blank.

"Nothing, depending on whether or not you co-operate," he straightened his light grey dress shirt and tie as though he had not been molesting her neck a moment before.

"With what?" She was slightly scared now.

"We're going to play a game of question and answer. If you answer all of my questions _honestly_," he emphasized the word. "Then I'll let you live. For now," he added as a cryptic after thought.

"All right," she agreed, not seeing another out. "What do you want to know?"

"Get changed. Then you'll find out."


	5. Chapter 5

Night had fallen by the time the Joker took Tanya from Maroni's house. Maroni and his wife were conspicuously absent as they left, but Mrs. Maroni peeked out at her from the balcony as Tanya had closed the front door. They made their way past large, manicured homes. No one was around, and not a blade of grass was out of place. The Joker kicked pebbles innocently as they strolled down the sidewalk. It was an odd experience to be casually led down dark roads by the most feared man in Gotham. Tanya realized that by being next to the most dangerous man in Gotham, she was probably one of the safest people in the city. The thought gave her chills. They passed a series of houses, fully decorated with lights, and in some places, a nativity scene. She realized with a start that Thanksgiving had come and past. It was the Holiday season. She wondered darkly if she would make it to Christmas and what her family was doing without her. She allowed the dark, terrible thoughts to consume her while they walked. Eventually, after turning down foreboding alleyways and corners, they came to a broken down, beat up old Chevy parked on the curb. The Joker pulled open the door.

"Get in."

The first few minutes of the car ride were silent, and Tanya became increasingly more nervous. The Joker was whistling Jingle Bells nonchalantly, his unpainted lips pursed in a lazy pout, as a poorly-decorated landscape whizzed by. It seemed that Gotham did not have the same Holiday spirit that the upper class neighborhood perpetrated this year. She kept stealing glances at the Joker. His lack of makeup was unnerving. She wondered why he had taken it off, what purpose it served. She realized that she much preferred him with the painted face. At least then his appearance matched his personality. Villains were not supposed to look like scarred cherubs.

She concluded that it was all another part of his game. His actions, his cleanliness, they all served to confuse her further. And damn him, it was working.

"Question one," he suddenly announced as the truck turned a corner. "Why did you become a reporter?"

Taken aback by the innocent nature of the question, Tanya took a moment to stutter out the answer.

"I wanted to help people by making sure they knew about the things that were going on in the world. Crooked government, criminals…"

"Rapists?"

Her breath hitched, but she attempted to play it off. "They fall under the category of criminals."

"How long ago did you get raped?" he stated it like it was a well-known fact.

Tanya's heart plummeted. How could he have known? Not even her parents knew. It was a secret she planned on taking to the grave. "Who said-"

"Remember, the truth shall set you free. And in your case, keep you alive," he cocked in eyebrow as a reminder.

Tanya took a shaky breath. "Five years ago."

"Never told anyone did you?"

"No," she used short, concise answers. She needed to just get through this. She was already beginning to hyperventilate.

"And you became a journalist to make sure you could help catch all of those other bad men who do those bad things, right?"

"Yes," do not cry, she chanted it in her head like a mantra. Do not let him win. "How do you know that I was raped?"

"I saw the look you had before I killed the Italian outside the bathroom. That was the only time you never put up a fight. It was obvious, especially since you always have the 'hero complex,'" he took his hands off of the wheel to make quotation mark motions with his fingers.

"The hero complex?" Tanya was stunned that he had observed this about her. It was unnerving, the way he scrutinized her.

"The same thing that the Batboy has. That urge to take every bullet, fight every thug, to never be wrong. That pedestal you build up with your rules and your morals. That misguided response to something bad that happened to you. Like, maybe if you save the world, the memory will go away. Have you always had it?"

"I wouldn't say that's misguided," she said, insulted.

"Answer the question." She sighed, but remembered her life depended on her compliance.

"Yes. It got worse though, after the, incident."

"Call it what it is. You got raped," he said it as though rape was not a terrible ordeal.

"The rape then," she wanted to punch him in the face. To wipe that knowing little smirk off-

"So you admit the hero complex is a bad thing."

"I never said that," she argued for the sake of defiance.

"You used the word 'worse'," she gaped, but could think of no response that would not dig her deeper into a hole. She settled for dignified silence.

"You see," he continued, "the problem with people like you and the Bat is that you think everyone is so good. Let me tell ya, no one is good. No one. What's the first thing kids learn to do? They learn to fight, to pick on each other. Humans like to tear each other apart. You think I'm evil? No, I'm not the evil one. I just set the wheels in motion. A trigger there, an explosion here. Then I back out. And guess what? You 'good citizens,' you 'moral people,' you tear each other apart. You want to know what the mayor said on the phone? 'Don't blow the money,' he said. You think people are caring? They're not. They're all as selfish, and terrible as whoever it was that raped you. You and the Batman, you're just fooling yourselves. But I'll show you," he punctuated his rant by turning to point at her.

"He said to kill the hostages?" The knowledge made her sick. She thought about how she had stood there, not being able to hear what was being said when the Joker answered the phone. How Batman had burst in mid conversation and tried to stop it all. The face of the little boy…She felt bile rise in her throat.

"He sure did. Only blew both since the Batman insisted on interrupting. I wanted to see what he did. He didn't disappoint. Neither did you, by the way. Jumping into that thug to save that little boy," he shook his head in glee, as though the incident had been nothing more than an entertaining wrestling match. "He lived, if that makes you feel any better," he added.

Tanya was bent over, her head pressed between her knees. The Mayor, the city, they were going to let all of those people die, for what? Green paper. She began to shake. She had thrown herself in front of the hostages, trying to help get them out, thinking that the Joker was going to blow them for no reason. The mayor had told him to…

"Don't feel bad; it's hard to swallow at first. You'll get used to it."

"No," Tanya sat up and shook her head. "No, we're not all like that. The city officials might be, but we're not all like that."

"More than half of those calls were people telling me to not blow the money."

"No," she repeated. "People aren't like that. And you shouldn't put them in situations like that."

"That's what I do. I prove my point," he was acting like all of this was normal. Like people did these things every day.

"By using innocent people as pawns?"

"No one is innocent, remember?" he shrugged.

"You just want to break people. Gotham, Batman, me."

"So far you and the Batman are the only two who won't break. And that reporter you work with. But I'll get to him later."

"Why don't you just kill us if we are messing with 'your plan'?"

"You're far too entertaining for that." he winked at her.

Tanya glared at him. "You just want people to be as miserable as you are," the accusation seethed from her lips.

"Do I look miserable?" Tanya turned her head away as he laughed his signature laugh.


	6. Chapter 6

Gotham was going crazy. The majority of the money, along with debt records, credit histories, etc, had perished in the explosions that the Joker had set off. As a result, citizens lost their minds. Few people had cash, or credit cards that meant anything more than useless squares of plastic. With no way to buy food, people stormed soup kitchens and charities. When that did not work, they took what they needed, without paying, from grocery stores. Than someone got the bright idea to start looting. Shops were looted until their shelves were bare. Televisions, shoes, stereos, you name it and people could be seen running down the street holding them. The police were beside themselves. Who do you arrest when everyone is breaking the law?

The Joker took this opportunity to take a vacation. There was more than enough chaos without him, he told Tanya. To his credit, he did not verbally say "I told you so." But the look in his eyes was more than enough. The sight made her ill. He strutted about, pleased that his point was being proved.

"You push people into desperation and they do desperate things," she had defended herself.

"Didn't push them too far did I? They could have waited for the federal government to step in. But they didn't."

Once again, she had no response. The federal government did arrive, but they brought the National Guard with them. Then things really got bad. Soldiers trying to stop the craziness were pelted with ice and stones until eventually, they fought back. Thankfully, the weapon of choice was tear gas and not guns. But it did not matter. There was now bitter animosity between citizens and those trying to help them. It was one riot short of war.

Meanwhile, the Joker kept him and Tanya holed up on the outskirts of the industrial district. They were on the top floor of a dingy old building. The outside appearance was deceptive. The top floor was apparently the hide out of some mob boss that the Joker had long since disposed of. He took up residence there now, lounging in the well-furnished main room, staring gleefully out the window, petting the two large dogs that lived there as well and were inexplicably fond of him, and watching the mayhem he caused. Tanya watched too, but with much less of a smile on her face. She tried to keep up with the news for a while, but it only ever echoed what she was already seeing firsthand. Jim had disappeared. She wondered where he had gone, a terrible sinking feeling settling over her.

The Joker remained makeup-less for the few days of his vacation. He rarely spoke to her, staying mostly in a room off of the main room. He did not employ thugs to keep watch over her, but let her wander at will, knowing that fear alone would keep her in check. Tanya feared he had grown bored with her. If he had, surely she would not live much longer. The fear grew like an ember in the pit of her stomach, to the point where she jumped at every small sound and was constantly nauseous. On the second day he walked in and dropped her notebook into her lap.

"Don't want to get behind in your observations," he had said.

So she wrote, watched television, cooked them both meals, avoided the dogs, and prayed for her life. Every night she went to bed, she was sure would be her last. On one level, death would be a relief. There would be no horrible anticipation. Her problems would be over. Thoughts over her family, of her future niece or nephew, and of Christmas dinner kept her going, but only barely.

Three days later, the Joker emerged from his room looking like his old self. Tanya stopped eating breakfast and stared at him, knowing the reappearance of the makeup and suit could mean nothing good. He smiled at her, not quite as maliciously this time.

"I'm going out, honey. Don't wait up for me," he deadpanned and smooched her on the cheek. She dared not ask where he was going. She stayed glued to the main room, alternating between staring out of the window and flipping through news channels. She needed to know what he was doing. At around 6 in the evening she got her answer. Outside of the window, smoke was curling up on the horizon from several locations, blackening the already gray winter skyline. Ten minutes later, the news offered an explanation.

"A series of explosions have occurred at all the major entrances and exits to Gotham city, effectively cutting off all ground traffic in and out of the city," the anchor reported. Tanya recognized her, a young intern from the office. She wondered what had become of the rest of the anchors and reporters. She wondered how much longer she would have to wonder about all the people in her life, especially now that no one could get out and no help could get in without be airlifted. The gravity of the situation was appalling. He had cut Gotham off from the rest of the United States. The situation was near hopeless.

She curled up in a ball on the couch, holding herself. She was too numb to cry. He was right. No one could stop him. Not Batman, not the police…

The idea hit her. She could stop him. She could do it if she tried. She had no hope of overpowering him, but maybe while he was asleep…or she could slip something in his food. Maybe there was drain cleaner.

She stopped herself. Could she kill him? To save the city, she thought she could. But would it save the city now? Was she already too late? The realization that if she killed him he would win, crept into her mind. He had broken her, driven her to murder. The thought caused the tears to finally fall. She needed to stop him without losing herself. But how? She ran through possibilities, but it all came down to one thing. Kill the Joker.

She spent an hour or so rooting through the condo, weighing her options. There were no cleaning supplies, nothing that could be used a poison. She might be able to steal one of his knives. But where would she have to stab to instantly kill him? She had a feeling that he would either stop her before she could do the deed, or kill her out of spite before he died. Either way, she would probably not escape unscathed. She decided that her life was worth it if it saved the city and people she loved. Her plotting was interrupted by the Joker's return.

"Lucy, I'm home!" he crowed. He stepped inside and ruffled her hair. He was covered in soot and filth. She watched him through slit eyes. He only smiled. "I can see that you're upset. Just let me shower, dear, then we'll talk about it," he took off his jacket and dropped it over the back of the couch. He left, whistling, for the bathroom.

Tanya heard the water turn on, and then the faint sounds of him singing. She looked at the jacket. It was now or never. She rifled carefully through the pockets. There were knives of every shape and size hidden in nearly every inch of the lining. Tanya cut her fingers on more than one occasion. Eventually, she settled on a small straight knife, one that she could easily hide and would be least likely to be missed. She gripped it, wondering how much force she would have to hit someone with to do enough damage to kill and wondered if she should practice on something. No, there was no time. She did not even know if he ever slept. She should do it now, while he was in the shower and the water could mask the sounds of her entrance.

It was now or never. She tightened her grip on the hilt of her chosen weapon and crept into his room. He was singing some nonsense tune loudly in the shower. The steam trickled out of the cracked open door, fogging her vision. Good, that meant his was blurred too. As she pushed the door open, she remembered the shower-scene in _Psycho_. She never pictured herself doing this in a million years. She was going to commit murder.

Her bare feet left imprints on the damp tile as she tiptoed toward the shower. It was old fashioned, with a curtain and a rod. She paused for the slightest moment to take a deep breath. Tanya positioned the knife, raising it up. Again, the ridiculous tune from the movie trilled in her thoughts. She shook it away, and reached out to rip the curtain back.


	7. Chapter 7

She was the one who was caught off guard. She swung with the knife straight for his heart. It turned out that she had severely underestimated the force she would have to use. The knife nicked him on his chest above the heart, but then slipped off of his slick skin. He rounded on her and knocked the weapon from her hand, sending it sailing onto the tile floor. The Joker yanked her into the tub. Tanya grabbed at the curtain, trying to maintain balance. It was to no avail; the curtain gripped in her fingers came crashing down, and her head connected with the porcelain base of the tub. Black and white spots danced in front of her eyes. Her head was over the drain and hot water was rapidly pooling around her. She waved her arms, trying to swat the Joker away from her. The showerhead was spraying directly into her eyes; she could not see. With one hand, the Joker gripped both of her thin wrists and jerked them over her head. With the other arm he bundled her sopping clothes in a fist.

"Word to the not-so-wise, when you stab someone, you have to use more force than that," his voice was dulled by the steaming water in her ears. He was holding her underwater. The tub was filling quickly. Her nose was already covered and she sputtered, trying to breath. She tried swallowing the water, but the Joker pushed her head harder into the tub. She was submerged. She flailed with her legs, trying to kick free. Within 30 seconds, she had blown out all of her air with the effort. Her motions were much less pronounced and her thoughts grew fuzzy.

'So this is how I die,' she thought. The Joker's face was barely visible above her. Drops of blood from the knife cut on his chest dripped down, staining the water above her a faint pink. She closed her eyes, wanting her last image to be of her family. She nearly lost consciousness when she was suddenly yanked above the surface. She gasped loudly, coughing and gagging.

Tanya could scarcely praise God for the oxygen coursing into her soggy lungs when she felt the Joker's strong fingers grip her hair. He seized her, yanking her up and out of the tub. She cried out and clawed at his hand. It was useless; his grip was like iron. Her scalp felt like it had caught fire. The Joker dragged her across the tile and into the bedroom. He ripped the door to the room open, nearly tearing it off the hinges and crossed the room, still dragging Tanya. He tossed her bodily to the bed and went back to slam the door. Tanya was up, running with all her might. It was too late. He threw the lock then turned back to her. He picked her up with both hands this time, smashing her down on the mattress. The springs groaned in protest. Tanya opened her mouth to scream, knowing full well that no one would come. He was on top of her now, pinning her with his weight. She could not move her legs or turn her body. Her arms were locked on his in a death grip, but she could not move him.

She was trapped. She stared up at his face, twisted in a terrible grimace, glaring down at her. It was like déjà vu. She went completely still. Her wide eyes began to water, spilling salt tears down her face and onto the bedding beneath them. The Joker stared back at her.

"Looks like I finally found your breaking point," his voice was a low growl. Tanya's body trembled beneath his. The Joker increased his pressure on her, pushing her legs apart an inch or so with his knee. A sob escaped her throat before she could register it. His face was only a silhouette through her tears. They stayed like that for some time, the sounds of Tanya crying mixed with his breathing.

She wished he had his makeup on. It was easier that way, easier to accept the face of the monster rather than the face of the man above her. Her chest heaved up and down. She wished he would just get it over with, whatever he was going to do, and kill her. He just kept staring directly into her eyes. Tanya remembered the eyes of the first man all of those years ago. His eyes were cold and distant. The Joker's were the opposite. They were a warmer brown then she had ever noticed before. He would not stop staring. It was driving her insane.

"Please, just kill me," she begged him in a low whisper. He relieved some of the pressure off of her upper body. Tanya was able to move a fraction. She shifted her body upwards, trying to get as far away from his naked lower half as she could. The Joker allowed her to.

"I'm not going to rape you," he sounded absolutely disgusted. He lifted himself off of her and walked to his closet. Tanya lay on the bed, shaking, trying to regain some semblance of control. She needed to escape; life depended on it. She sat up, watching the closet carefully. She gripped the side table lamp and jerked it out of the socket. She crossed the room again, toward the closet. She was at the door when a now-clothed Joker turned. She swung with all of her might. The blow hit him square in the middle of his face. He stumbled back, stunned, his eyes wide with surprise. Tanya did not wait for him to recover. She swung again, this time striking him in the back of the head. The Joker dropped like a weight to the carpeted floor. Blood trickled from his head and stained the carpet. Tanya stood stock still. She knew she should finish this right now. She raised the lamp like a club, ready to deliver a fatal blow.

She could not do it. The lamp fell from her shaky hands and landed beside the Joker's prone form. Tanya turned and ran. She pushed past the dogs and down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Within minutes, she burst out of the front metal door, gasping for air. She did not slow down, not even when her water drenched clothes froze to her in the cold winter atmosphere. She ran down streets and alleys, not stopping, not slowing until she came into contact with a group of soldiers. Her hysterical appearance frightened them.

"The Joker!" she yelled frantically, "I know where he is! You have to get him, he's going to kill my family!" she continued to rant as soldiers swarmed around her.

"Holy hell! Isn't that Tanya Heathrow? How long has she been missing?" one soldier exclaimed.

"Since before Thanksgiving," one supplied. A large, burly man with a bushy mustache stepped up. He had the look of someone in charge.

"Did you say you know where the Joker is?" She nodded, relieved someone had heard her.

"Yes, I knocked him out. He's in the industrial district. It's a big building, about sixteen stories up. I think it is on 4th street and Wayne." She was unsure of the exact location. The signs had been a blur as she had fled. "There are two dogs." The man was already up, shouting directions.

"Get a team over there immediately. Use lethal force on sight." Soldiers were piling into tanks and jeeps already mobilizing.

"What about my family?" Tanya cried above the din. The burly man was already moving off. A younger soldier approached her.

"I'm Lt. Schoville. We're going to send someone to your family. Who are they?" Tanya hastily explained. As she talked, a lower ranking soldier ran up and handed her a phone. "Call them, make sure they're safe and that they know we're coming." Tanya nodded. She hastily dialed her parent's house. No response. She called her sister and again got a voicemail. Panicking, she tried her baby sister in New York. She answered.

"Hello?" her sister asked.

"Laurie! It's Tanya!"

"Tanya! Oh my God, are you ok? Where are you? We were so worried; the news said the Joker had kidnapped you-"

"He did, but Laurie, listen there is no time. Do you know where Mom and Dad and Gina and Tony are? I escaped, but the Joker will be coming after you next-"

"They're here; they're all here in New York with me. They got out a few days ago. It nearly killed them to leave, but Commissioner Gordon came to them personally. He said the Joker might come for us next. We have protection where we are."

Tanya nearly cried in relief. "I'm so happy to hear that. Listen, stay there. I'll join you as soon as I can."

"Who is that? Is that Tanya?" She heard the voice of her mother in the background. She spent the next ten minutes on the phone, tearfully talking to each one, even her brother-in-law, needing to hear their voices. She would have talked longer, but the soldiers insisted she be taken into police custody for questioning.

A half-hour later she was in the police station seated across from Commissioner Gordon. He was smiling gently at her. There was something warm about his face, something comforting. He studied her over his glasses, his dark hair slightly disheveled.

"It is good to see you alive Miss. This city has missed your optimism. How are you?"

"I'll be ok. Thank you, for getting my family to safety." Her eyes shone with gratitude.

"Of course. I had a feeling the Joker would come for them sooner or later. With any luck, this will end tonight because of you." He gripped her hand. "Can you talk about what happened?" He looked at her earnestly.

"He…I don't know," she searched for words, "He had a lot of opportunities to kill me, but he didn't. I don't know why. Maybe he was saving me up for something…" she trailed off. Gordon nodded at her understandingly.

"We can discuss it a little later. In the meantime, let's get you changed. And you should eat something and get to sleep." Tanya nodded and stood up. Gordon held the door open for her to leave the interrogation room. A police officer burst in.

"Commissioner, we have some news on the Joker," The officer glanced at Tanya as though questioning whether or not to deliver it in front of her. Gordon nodded for him to continue. "The National Guard responded sir, but they weren't able to locate the Joker. They're searching the city now." Gordon nodded again, but something flickered in his eyes.

Tanya's heart dropped. The Joker had escaped.


	8. Chapter 8

Tanya was again sitting with Gordon, this time on the roof. They were positioned next to a large, shattered floodlight. Tanya suspected she knew who they were waiting for. He arrived in a swish of ebony cape.

"I got here as quickly as possible. Any word on the Joker?" Batman's voice was a nearly inaudible growl.

"No, not yet. It seems he slipped away again. We're scouring the city for him right now." Batman's eyes were focused on Tanya.

"Tanya Heathrow?"

Tanya raised her hand in a small, nervous wave. "It's nice to meet you."

Gordon spoke. "As you know, Miss. Heathrow went missing a week before Thanksgiving. She managed to escape by knocking the Joker out with a lamp."

"You lasted a long time," Batman stated in lieu of a question.

"I don't know why," she stuttered, "He almost killed me right before I escaped."

"You overpowered him?" Batman seemed surprised. Gordon just stood, arms crossed, listening to the exchange.

"No, he just stopped."

"He stopped, why?"

"I don't know…I tried to stab him while he was in the shower, and he nearly drowned me in the tub, but then he pulled me out and then he just stopped." Batman looked at Gordon, who shrugged. Tanya had already told him the story earlier.

"Why do you think he stopped? Did he do anything else to you?"

"No, well, he roughed me up a couple of times, but otherwise no." Batman and Gordon looked confused.

"How did he normally act around you?" Gordon asked.

"I don't know," with every question, Tanya felt increasingly less intelligent. "He was really confusing. He let me get away with a lot," she stuttered again, "I mean, he never killed or seriously injured me. He just threatened me and my family." Batman nodded for her to continue. "He knew a lot about me, about the people in my life. He always called me some pet name when he talked to me, never Tanya. For a few days, he didn't wear the makeup." Gordon cocked a brow at this.

"What's he look like?"

"Except for the scars, he looks really normal. Almost nice," She couldn't believe she was saying that.

Batman pressed her for more information, "Anything else?"

"He liked to ask me questions, about my personal life. And sometimes he would grab me around the waist, or kiss my cheek-"

Gordon looked alarmed. "Did he ever-"

"No," Tanya cut him off quickly. "But he somehow knew that I got raped, a long time ago. I haven't told anyone that, not even my family. He just observed it when he killed a thug who was trying to…" she trailed off. Batman and Gordon looked at each other, some unspoken conversation passing between them.

"If he had some feelings for her, it could work against him," Batman said in a low voice.

"It would be her choice. That's a giant risk." Gordon took a few steps toward her.

"I would watch her," he looked at Tanya. She knew instantly what he wanted her to do.

"You want me to be bait," she stated.

"He is most likely going to come for you. Either to kill you, or something else. You would need protection anyway. I could ensure your safety." Batman's eyes were imploring through the mask.

Tanya thought about it. She knew the Joker was sure to find her, whatever the reason why. Batman was her best bet. And this way, maybe she could help stop him.

"I'll do it," she agreed.


	9. Chapter 9

The pine tree twinkled forlornly from the living room. Tanya was chopping onions half-heartedly at the counter. She wiped away a tear that she told herself was the fault of the vegetable. Truth was, it was Christmas Eve, and she was alone. It was the first time in 24 years that she was not surrounded by loved ones. She had chatted with her family via a web cam earlier and over the phone with Jim, who too had been forced to evacuate. They tried to persuade her to leave Gotham. She explained that she could not. She had promised to stay and help catch the Joker. And so she stayed.

The only problem was that the Holiday season was significantly lonelier.

Tanya added the onions to the soup she was making. Normally, her mother and sisters made a day out of cooking, while her father finished decorating and then watched the game with her brother-in-law. The aloneness settled heavily over her. She filled a bowl with the soup she made and went into the living room. She flopped onto the overstuffed couch and grabbed the remote. Her flat screen lit up and she flipped through images of white Christmases for a moment before settling on the live-action version of _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_. She chuckled at Jim Carey cavorting across the screen, allowing the heart-warming movie to assuage her fears for a few hours. As the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes and he saved Christmas, Tanya thought of the Joker. She wished that he would experience a Christmas miracle.

The movie ended and Tanya watched the _Year Without a Santa Claus _and half of _Charlie Brown's Christmas_ before she nodded off. It was just before midnight. The lights on the tree twinkled in the corner. The doorknob of the front door slowly turned. Someone was visiting, but it was not Santa Claus. Tanya mumbled in her sleep and stirred as the door silently slid open and clicked shut. The shadow crossed the living room to the couch where Tanya was sleeping, bowl still clutched in her hands. She stirred dreaming of something far less pleasant than sugar plums. She mumbled something, her face creasing in distress.

"No, don't. Please!" her mumbles became more frantic as she pleaded with some unseen foe. The intruder shook her awake. Her eyes snapped open and she shot upright, the bowl clattering to the hard wood ground.

"Dreaming about me?" the Joker flopped down on the couch next to her. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt paired with a ridiculous Santa hat, complete with bells. Once again, his face and hair were clean. He almost looked normal. Tanya began to panic. How had he gotten in here? There was security, and Batman was watching from across the street. She groped in her pocket for the button that, if pushed, would bring help. She realized she had left it in the kitchen. She inwardly cursed her stupidity.

"Wondering how I got in with the Batboy watching?" The Joker asked, fiddling with the white ball on the end of his hat and again demonstrating his uncanny ability to read her thoughts. "After our little quarrel, you know the one where you hit me in the face with a lamp?" he lifted up the edge of the red and white hat, revealing a thin scar that retreated into his hairline. "Well, it only took me about five minutes to wake up from the spill I took. After that, I went straight to your apartment complex. I've had an empty apartment next door to you for a while now. I just moved in, and waited." Tanya's heart flipped. How long had he been planning this?

"You've been living next door to me all of this time?"

"Ironic, isn't it?" he grinned like the Cheshire cat. Tanya began scooting away from, preparing to make her break for the kitchen and the panic button. The Joker stopped her by grasping one of her thighs, effectively pinning her to the couch. In the background, Linus explained the true meaning of Christmas to the Peanuts.

"You should have killed me," he growled.

"Why didn't you kill me?" The question had kept her tossing and turning for a week now. She figured she had nothing to lose at this point by asking.

"Who says I'm not going to?" he tightened his grip and dragged her across the couch cushions toward him.

"Why wait? You had me. I tried to stab you." He laughed.

"That was the shittiest assassination attempt ever conceived," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. "You see," he began to explain," when you stab someone, it takes a lot of force. You should never go straight for the heart. Too much bone protecting it. Go for some place softer, like the stomach, or the legs," he trailed the blade across her body to demonstrate, coming to rest on her inner thigh. He leaned in until his face was extremely close to hers.

"It's Christmas," Tanya said, the gears in her heads going into overdrive.

The Joker glanced at the clock over her mantle place. "Look at that. Merry Christmas, gorgeous," he slightly increased the pressure of the knife on her leg.

"Are you hungry?" she blurted, a plan forming. The Joker cocked a brow quizzically. "If you're going to kill me, at least eat Christmas dinner with me. You're the only one I have to spend Christmas with," the truth of the statement weighed heavily on her. She shook it off. She needed to get to the kitchen.

"Sounds fair," he removed the knife from her skin and pocketed it nonchalantly. "What did you cook?"

"There is baked macaroni and cheese in the oven, soup, and some bread. Oh, and wine. Come on," she instructed and bent down to retrieve the bowl and spoon off of the floor. He followed her into the kitchen, humming softly. Tanya deposited the spoon into the sink, looking for the most inconspicuous way to get to the drawer with the button in it. She glanced somewhat nervously at the Joker. He was lounging on the counter, drumming God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen against the marble surface. Once again, he was staring at her in that way that was so unnerving that a cold tingle shot down her spine. She flipped on the small countertop radio. Nat King Cole's deep voice began to croon _the Christmas Song_. Even under the circumstances Tanya found the baritone soothing. She took the macaroni out of the oven and set it on top of the stove. She scurried about the kitchen and tried to look nonchalant and come up with any excuse to open the drawer and retrieve the button.

She reached into the drawer under the guise of getting out a spatula. Something pressed squarely into her back, forcing the drawer shut. The Joker spun her around.

"Care to dance?" his arms were out in classic ballroom formation. Tanya took his hand gingerly, figuring playing his game would buy her time. He cradled her hip and swung her to the music, surprisingly skillful. He twirled her around. A giggle burst from her lips without her permission. "There's a smile," the Joker commented. "You're always so serious." He waltzed her out of the kitchen and into the doorway of the dining room, dipping her as the song came to its conclusion. Sinatra began warbling _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_. The Joker was still holding her, swaying them in a slow two-step. His grin did not look nearly so menacing when it was silhouetted by the warm lights of the tree and framed by his hat. Above them Tanya knew there was mistletoe. Swept up in what might well be the last pleasant moment of her life, she pressed her lips to his.

His body tensed. Sensing she had committed a severe error, Tanya pulled back. The Joker was staring at her, his expression unreadable. He stopped swaying but did not let go of her. All was gravely still for a moment. Then the Joker's face split into a smile.

"Do you always kiss men who plan to kill you?" he teased.

"Only on Christmas," she had no idea why she was joking. The situation was far from funny. She suspected she was joking in an attempt to refrain from crying. The Joker, however, found it hilarious. His laugh bounced off of the shiny kitchen surfaces.

"Only on Christmas," he repeated, shaking his head. "That's good."

"Well," she justified, "There are strict rules about mistletoe. You can't break them."

The Joker turned his eyes upward.

"Strict rules, huh?" She nodded, wondering why he didn't relinquish his hold on her and why she had not pulled away. He seemed to ponder mistletoe etiquette for a moment. "Well," he concluded. "We don't want you to break the rules. You've done so well so far."

The Joker kissed her and kissed her hard. It was not the gentle caress of a lover, but forceful. He gripped her tighter, pulling her into his chest. His tongue forced her lips apart and plunged in, ravishing her mouth. He pulled back and latched onto her neck, locating instantly an extremely sensitive area. Tanya's mouth hung open and she gasped. What was he doing? His teeth grazed her skin and she involuntarily bucked into him. She heard him chuckle lowly.

His reaction (and the reactions he was causing her to have) set her ablaze. If he wanted to play, fine. Two could play this game. She mimicked him and latched herself onto his neck, determined to match him. The Joker picked up on it, immediately taking it as a challenge. He grabbed her ass, hauling her off of her feet, giving himself the advantage of leverage. In response, Tanya twisted her hands into his hair and crushed her lips to his. He stumbled backward slightly with the initial force but soon returned it. His scars tickled the corners of her mouth. They battled with their tongues, grunts escaping both of them.

Tanya did not know what she was doing, but something told her she had to do it. She could not let him win. He was not going to control her or dominate her. She wrapped her legs around him, creating a vice around his waist. She squeezed, eliciting a moan from him. She smiled against his lips at the small victory.

The Joker was moving now into the living room. He flung himself onto the couch effectively crushing Tanya's body beneath his own. She let out a small moan as the air left her lungs and the Joker's hips connected with the sensitive area between her legs. He kissed her again. The two spent the next several minutes battling back and forth for dominance, for control. To Tanya, this seemed like the pivotal moment, her fight to secure the right to live. All thoughts of the panic button in the kitchen lay forgotten. This was her battle alone.

In the tussle most of the pair's articles of clothing were literally ripped off. The Santa hat was resting on one of the armrests where it had fallen and the Joker's shirt was tangled somewhere near the base of the tree. Tanya's shirt, or what remained of it, was in a puddle on the floor. The Joker's hands worked nimbly at the fly of her jeans, jerking the button open and the zipper down. Her limbs were bruised and her muscles sore with the effort and she was fairly certain that she had a split lip.

"When's the last time you got laid?" he asked with malice. "Do you count the rape?" Angered at his low blow Tanya kissed him hard, biting down on his lower lip.

"When's the last time a woman has looked at you without the usual mixture of fear and revulsion?" she did not recognize the bitter sneer that left her. The Joker smiled, pleased with her anger. It was the same smile he wore when he watched his little games unfold. The realization that by playing this game he was winning smacked her full-force. He wanted her like this, violent and catty and bitter. He wanted her just like him. Still grinning, he peeled her pants off and leaned hard into her. He was taunting her, playing rough, trying to instigate a fight. To make her as bitter as he was. It was just a different way to break her down.

She refused. He was not going to win, no matter what it took. She needed to change the game, make him play by her rules. With difficulty, she flipped him over so she was on top. Tanya softened her voice to the purr of a long-time lover. "When's the last time someone touched you?" she accompanied her question by gently dragging her hands across his bare torso. "Or kissed you?" Tanya brushed her lips across his cheeks, trailing them over every inch of his scars and then his nose and face. The Joker had gone very still. Tanya continued on, gently kissing his neck, caressing his shoulder, giving him attention and gentleness he had not earned. She finished by drawing his head in closer for a slow, smoldering kiss. His body leaned into hers. Never breaking contact, she took his hands in her own and guided them over her own body, letting them rest at the hem of her Christmas-red undies. She went to work on his pants, jerking them past his knees and ankles with some difficulty. She ran her hands down his back, gently trailing her nails. He gasped and bucked into her, revealing a hardness that had not been there a moment ago.

"You want me," she murmured, "I know you like me. Somewhere under the monster the man inside of you likes me. And it drives you insane." she whispered huskily in his ear. He groaned again, not an all out admission, but close enough for Tanya. She continued. "It drives you insane, because I make you feel and you hate to feel." She trailed her hands down his abdomen painfully slowly, coming to rest at the hem of his boxers. "Let me show you how good it is to feel again." She nipped his ear.

"You want to fuck Gotham's most feared criminal?" his half-snarled question came out far less authoritative than usual. He was on the verge of breaking down.

"No. I want to sleep with the man underneath the makeup," She did not know where that had came from, but the moment it left her lips, she knew it was true.

He turned his eyes upward to hers, examining her face. For a moment, the criminal slid back. "Why?" he asked.

"Think of it as a Christmas gift."

She kissed him softly again. It took him a moment, but then he kissed her back just as gently.


	10. Chapter 10

The tenderness lasted for about a minute and a half. He wound his fingers through her hair, cradled her hips, kissed her softer than any lover ever had. Tanya allowed her body to relax and let her guard down, hoping that she had gotten through. Evidently, she had not. The Joker reversed their positions, trapping her once again underneath his body. The transition was rough; Tanya's head connected with the arm rest, dazing her temporarily.

The Joker laughed. "Fooled you. You really thought you had me didn't you?" he squirmed, adjusting his position so he was comfortably lying on top of her. "Let me tell you, sister, if it was that easy, Batman would have screwed me months ago. Very valiant effort though. Almost convinced me you were telling the truth."

"I was, admitting it was painful, but she would not give him the satisfaction of calling her a liar.

"Then you have more problems than me, honey. Or you have some serious sexual frustration you need to deal with. I heard they have great things with batteries. You might want to look into them."

"I wasn't the only one," she accused, "the body doesn't lie." She was referring to the hardness pressed into her thigh.

"Well, baby, me sleeping with you? That makes sense. Sleeping with me…" he trailed off pointedly. "Unless you though it would save your life. I must say, I never took you to be the type to barter with your body, but then again, I have a funny way of changing people."

"Don't flatter yourself. Maybe I knew I was going to die and wanted one last 'bang.'"

He screwed up his face. "Pervert." He studied her for a moment. "So, you finally lost hope then?"

"No. But if there is one thing that can be said for you, it's that you keep your promises. Gotham has seen enough destruction to know that."

He laughed again. "Right you are. But I don't recall promising to kill you. But, if you're so resigned…" he reached into his pants pocket on the ground and came up with a knife. Tanya steeled her jaw, mentally saying a prayer but showing no outward fear. The Joker ran the weapon along her naked torso, drawing a thin line of blood on her abdomen. She could not keep her body from trembling, but refused to whimper. The Joker noticed.

"You're going to take all the fun out of this aren't you?" he got a steely look in response. He sighed dramatically. "Should have just screwed you," he chastised himself. She remained silent, unperturbed by his gloating. "Not going to put up a fight huh? I thought you had more fire than that."

Tanya found her voice. "You don't know anything about me. Do me the justice of not pretending to."

He raised an eyebrow. "I know a lot more about you than most people. Even your family-"

"You know basic facts," she cut him off sharply, "but nothing about my character. So I'll do you a favor and give you a hint. You are not going to break me," she emphasized every word, "or Jim, or the Batman. Because despite what you believe, people do have the propensity to be good." She was talking down to him purposely. She had her game face on, the one she wore when she reported intense stories. "Even if you kill us, there will always be more. And eventually you'll end up alone in your bitterness, because good always wins. Maybe not today, or next week or within the next ten years, but it is coming. And I feel bad for you," she concluded, eyes attentive, daring him to challenge her.

"You feel sorry for me?" he was incredulous. "You're pinned under me with a knife to your throat, and you're being self righteous?" he pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Unbelievable. Unbe-freakin-lievable."

"Like I said, you don't know me." Despite the severity of the situation she crossed her arms, looking at him like he was a petulant child.

"So you're ready to die then? No fight? Not even going to try and stop me?" he put more force on the knife.

"Life is about choices," she choked out. The steel was cold against her flushed skin and she could smell the iron of the thin trail of blood it drew to the surface. "I can't change what you are going to do, but I can control my reaction. And if you're going to kill me, I'm robbing you of any satisfaction you would get by chasing me, or watching Batman or the police try and save me." He laughed, shaking his head back and forth as though trying to shoo a bug.

"You are way too interesting," he chuckled. The Joker pulled the knife back and tucked it safely into his jeans. He stood up and pulled his jeans on and then began searching for his missing shirt.

"It's under the tree," Tanya supplied, mind racing. She was getting tired of this game of back and forth, of fearing for her life. She considered breaking for the kitchen to end it once and for all.

"Thanks," he bent to retrieve it. She stood up, preparing to run. He turned around too quickly. Instead of donning the shirt himself, he motioned for her to raise her arms up. She did so tentatively. She was immersed in warm flannel as he pulled the shirt over her head. "To replace the one I ripped," he kicked the puddle on the floor. He swept up the Santa hat and tucked his hair under it. He paused, and on second thought placed the hat over her head, jerking it down a little too roughly. She pushed it back up over her eyes in time to see him march into the kitchen. She turned to follow, but he emerged quickly with the pan of macaroni in his hand and a Christmas chocolate chip cookie hanging out of his mouth.

"For the road," he explained with his mouth full. Tanya stared incredulously. He approached her and pulled her into a one armed hug. He swallowed the cookie and kissed her again. It tasted like chocolate and sugar. Tanya thought it ironic that his lips tasted that sweet. She kept her mouth closed tight and her body unresponsive.

"We'll have to do this again soon, cutie. Maybe you can kiss me into the New Year," he walked to the door and swung it open. He turned at the last second and tossed something at her. She bobbled it for a moment, but then caught it. It was the panic button. She looked at him, mouth open in shock.

"You might want to keep that on you at all times. Never know when some psycho is going to break in," he gave her an admonishing look. The door clicked as he left. Tanya nearly pressed the button on sight, but then realized that it was already blinking. She heard a noise at her window and Batman came barreling into her living room. He took in her appearance, from the hat to the conspicuous lack of pants, confusedly.

Damn, she had some explaining to do.

She stalled by motioning frantically to the hallway. "He's out there!" she whispered loudly, "Without a shirt!" Batman didn't pause to ask why that was. Instead he was in the hallway faster than she could watch him move. In a moment, the police were in her apartment. They checked her apartment, scouring every inch and the neighboring units. Nothing. Batman still had not returned.

She sat on the couch, head in her hands, waiting and cursing herself for not pushing the button sooner. She forcefully shoved the fact that she had damn near willingly slept with a man of pure evil to the back of her mind. She knew it would resurface soon, but she needed her game face on for the police. There was no way she could explain it to them. A chill shot through every inch of her when she thought about the fact that he had known about the button. What didn't he know?

Gordon approached her a half hour after Batman entered the apartment. He patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"How are you?" she peered up at him.

"Sick of this game. I'm sick of being afraid and having him around every corner."

Gordon nodded. "Understandable. That's why we need to move you to an undisclosed location."

"No." Tanya sat up.

"No? Miss Heathrow, I know this is extremely difficult for you, but for your safety-" She cut him off.

"If I move, he'll know. If I go into police custody, he'll know. Even if I disappear, he'll find my loved ones, use them to draw me out. I can't hide. This is never going to end. It'll never end, not until one of us is dead." Gordon gave her an appraising look.

"Miss Heathrow, I realize that it is bad now, but it's no reason to give up hope." He opened his mouth to continue, but his phone bleeped. He looked down at it. Tanya knew who it was. Gordon read the text, and then looked back up at Tanya. He sighed, but nodded.

"All right, but I think we need to talk to someone first." Tanya nodded in agreement. Together, she and Gordon made their way out of the apartment and to wherever Batman had messaged them to meet him.


	11. Chapter 11

Tanya was sitting back at her desk, flipping through footage, only half paying attention. She was back at work. The damage that had been done when she had been kidnapped was gone, evident only by the empty desks nearest to the door whose occupants had taken the blast. No one dare sit next to the door now, especially since she was back. Due to rumor, police reports and news stories centered on her, it was common knowledge that Tanya was Joker bait. People were on edge, waiting for what they thought was the inevitable. Some even refused to come to the office. Tanya was not insulted. She could not blame them for not wanting to die. She typed half-heartedly on her computer. Work had lost its luster. It was all part of the game now, a final ploy to draw the Joker out. She was certain that this would be the last attempt. Either the Joker would be caught, or she would expire.

The thought kept her up at night, listening to the tree branches scraping against the window, in constant fear of every sigh of the wood. The world which had once captivated her seemed like a giant graveyard. Her final resting place could be anywhere, the market, her car, the crosswalk, the stairwell of her complex, or the very desk she sat in. Her office became like a tomb. It terrified her, the things she had yet to do, the people she had yet to love, the life she still wanted to live. She didn't want to die. Not yet. Not like this. She succumbed to a weeping fit. Salt water tears splashed the surface of the long stale coffee in the ceramic mug on her desk. She did this often now, bursting into tears at strange times, like in the checkout line at the grocery store. No one questioned her. The whole city seemed to know who she was. Poor Tanya Heathrow, marked for death.

A touch on her shoulder startled her out of her silent pity party. She hastily wiped her face, a vain effort since her visitor knew very well what she had just been doing. In fact, it was the whole reason he had entered her office. Jim pulled a chair up next to her, a box of Kleenex in hand. He didn't speak, but just sat, handing her tissues and rubbing her back comfortingly, occasionally muttering nonsense sounds of comfort. Tanya allowed herself to cry until her eyes were spent. The pile of sodden tissue was growing to an alarming height. Jim again didn't acknowledge it more than to push it nonchalantly into a wastepaper basket at the foot of her desk. He sat, head propped on his hand, just watching her, waiting for her to speak first. His chestnut color hair was a little overdue for a trim and fell over his eyes. Tanya found herself staring at his eyes. They had always been beautiful, warm and knowing, the lush color of foliage. Now they were watching her, as they often did, a hint of sadness in them. She knew in an instant that he understood.

"I'm scared," was her open admission. She hadn't told anyone else this, perhaps fearing that vocalizing the fear would make it real. But it was real anyway, and continued to grow the more alone she felt.

"So am I." Jim scooted his chair closer to her and touched her arm reassuringly. "I've been scared since he put out that first video of his."

"Me too," she whispered. "How can someone be so evil?"

"I wish I knew. I always thought that maybe he was more sad than evil." So, Jim had been thinking about this too.

"Why did you come back?" the questioned bubbled out of her lips. "You were out, you could have run."

"Why didn't you run that day he came for you?" Jim replied with a question of his own.

"I wanted to. But if I did, people would die, all for me. I couldn't do that."

"There's your answer then. People are terrified of him. But someone has to show him that he can't dictate everything. That he can't make people run. Someone has to prove him wrong."

"Batman already tried."

"One man can't save a city. Not alone. We have to save ourselves." Tanya's sighed.

"It sucks," she wished there was a more poetic way to put it.

"It does. But it will pass."

"Before we are killed?"

"I wish I knew." Jim looked away for a moment, obviously debating asking something. He looked back at her, green locked on brown. "Why didn't he kill you? I've heard that he could have, even after you escaped. He was in your apartment."

It did not shock Tanya that Jim knew. Journalist made a career out of knowing. What did bother her was the answer to his question.

"I don't know," she stammered. "He keeps trying, but then he always stops. He says that I am interesting."

"You are," Jim smiled, silently urging her to go on.

"He almost slept with me," the confession burst forth like water from a dam. Jim's face instantly became alarmed.

"Did he try and rape you?"

"No." Tanya was going to tell him the truth she could not bring herself to tell Batman or Gordon that night. The Batman had returned, dejected that the Joker had escaped yet again. He had questioned her, harshly at times, about what went on in the apartment. Tanya explained it all but carefully circumvented the near mishap. Something about Jim was different than Batman or Gordon. Something about her experiences with Jim told her that he might understand, might even know why it had happened. "He came into my apartment and I was stalling, trying to find a way to summon help. So I said that since it was Christmas, he at least owed me dinner. And we were in the kitchen…" the story poured out. Jim did not interrupt and his face betrayed no definite emotion. She recognized the apathetic expression of a journalist in the field. It concerned her, but she kept on telling the story, finally reaching the conclusion where she had decided to come back to work as bait. He listened, reserving judgment until the end.

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I think I am as crazy as he is," the confession marked the conclusion of her story.

Jim clasped her hands. "Tanya, you were kidnapped for over a month. You saw and heard things that most of us are lucky enough to have never seen. Of course you're confused."

"But he hurt you and you aren't like this."

Jim smiled wryly, the fresh scar on the right side of his face twisting. "I am just as confused. I wonder why this happened to me. I look at my reflection and wonder how he got his scars. If it was them that drove him to be how he is. If the same thing is going to happen to me. But mostly, I wonder when he's going to come back and finish the other side. You went through more. Maybe on the outside you look fine, but your scars are on the inside. They'll take a while to fade. But you're not crazy. _We're _not crazy." His tone was authoritative. He was convincing the both of them.

Tanya's eyes watered with fresh tears. "I don't want to die alone."

"You won't. If you need me to, I'll spend every minute with you until this is over, For better or worse."

Tanya took him up on it. They needed each other now, two friends in the same boat. They left the office together and headed for Tanya's apartment. She threw some belongings together and left for Jim's house, deciding that her apartment had too many memories. Jim had given her the tour and then they fixed dinner together. There was something instantly soothing about his company. They laughed as they ate, almost as though life was back to normal. And at night when it was time for sleep, Tanya curled into the king bed in the master bedroom, relishing the feel of a warm form next to her. It went like this for a week and a half before Tanya gave into impulse and kissed the man who selflessly offered her comfort. His kiss was one of genuine tenderness and caring and when she kissed his scar, she knew that he understood what it meant. They slept together, only sleeping, kissing and cuddling. The world had an axis once again. She only hoped they would both live long enough to explore this. Tanya was certain that if this all turned out right, if they lived and the Joker was captured or killed, that the world might heal. She might have a future, hopefully with the man sleeping peacefully next to her, his arm draped round her waist, holding her close. She felt his heart beat steadily under her palm. Tanya closed her eyes and said a prayer that it would continue to do so for much longer.

**A/N: This story has already gone on way longer than I intended. In the next chapter or two, it's going to wrap up with a "final showdown." Will Batman finally capture the Joker? Will Tanya and Jim survive to have a future together? Find out in the next installment, same bat time, same bat place. Thanks to all the reviewers!**


	12. Chapter 12

Some say the world will end in fire,  
Some say in ice.  
From what I've tasted of desire  
I hold with those who favor fire.  
But if it had to perish twice,  
I think I know enough of hate  
To say that for destruction ice  
Is also great  
And would suffice.

**Robert Frost**

Tanya was at her computer, staring at the flickering text in front of her. She had lately taken to typing and posting her journal online, fearing that it might soon be the only record of what she had, and was still going through. The material was tucked securely in cyberspace, where her family could easily access it if she was gone. The task of rereading her journal was sobering but compelling. She read her own thoughts, remarking at the clarity that hindsight was giving her. She reread her description of all of her interactions with her clown-faced tormentor. In the relative safety of solitude, and assuming that her descriptions were accurate she was able to piece together a theory on why she was still alive.

She recalled something that the Batman had said to Gordon on one occasion. He had reported that the Joker refused to kill him, his only threat, because he was interesting, something he wanted to corrupt. In short, he was the Joker's foil, just as stubborn, but for the opposite reason. He healed not hurt. Batman was an agent of peace, ironically using brutality against those who threatened it. The Joker was an agent of chaos, using violence to force normally docile citizens to become as brutal as he was. In Batman, the Joker found a worthy adversary.

Apparently, Tanya held that status on some level. It was a difficult concept to grapple with, being put on a similar pedestal as a bonafide superhero. She had tentatively told Jim her theory. He seemed stunned that she was only now realizing it.

"Of course that's what it is. You're an opponent, someone to beat down." She felt slightly chastised by the fact that Jim, and then Commissioner Gordon who she texted the same theory to, felt that this was obvious. Jim assured her that it was easier to perceive something when you were a third party. They all seemed so certain about it. To Tanya, it was like a pit opened in her stomach. She could not be seen like that. It was easier to be killed, to be dispensable. She didn't want the Joker to see her as an equal. That meant responsibility, that meant sadness, and most importantly, it meant she had to keep fighting.

Jim had hugged her when she tearfully told him her thoughts.

"You are already all of those things without thinking. You have been fighting all of this time. It's in your nature." Tanya wished she agreed with him. She was not nearly as strong as her friends would have her believe. She was scared shitless, and the Joker knew it. The Batman was never like this. Even under pressure he was calm and collected, and damn terrifying himself. What was terrifying about a 5'8" news reporter with a head full of curls? Nothing. If she was so damn terrifying, no one would have raped her. The Joker would not have kidnapped her.

Jim pointed out that strength came in different forms. The Batman had brawn, but she had something else too. She could fight in other ways.

"It's going to take all of us, this whole city, to beat him," he reminded her. "Keep your head up tiger."

She tried, for Jim's sake, to keep her head up. But at night she lay wide awake. The makeup crew worked to disguise the bags under her eyes when she went on camera. She did special reports on the Joker now, upping the stakes, making sure he knew where she was. She constantly felt sick, to the point that the remaining camera crew assumed she had morning sickness. She wished it was something like that. Fear, though no one could see it on camera, was twisting her insides and beating her down.

If the Joker did not kill her soon, she was likely to panic herself into a heart attack. She was sure that the Batman was watching her. She felt his presence at odd times during the day, but never saw him and he never informed her that he was surveying her. He remained invisible and silent, even in the bright of day. Trouble was, she knew he was not the only one watching her. The police for certain, including less than honorable officers on the mob payroll. That meant that the Joker knew. He must be biding his time. The thought made her toss the contents of her stomach again.

All of the men in her life were the opposite. They were composed, even outwardly optimistic. Even Jim assured her that it was all ok. She knew better. The tight line of their jaws told otherwise. She suspected that Jim and the Commissioner said these things for themselves as much as they said it for her. The only one who was honest with her was the Batman.

"He's not going to stop," he had said it bluntly.

"I know," and she did. The unspoken truth was that one of them was going to have to lose his game. Someone had to bite the bullet and kill him. She preferred Batman do it out of the two of them. He had never killed anyone to her knowledge. She did not believe for a second the accusations that the police that had been killed were the Batman's handiwork. She knew that they had been crooked, responsible for Harvey Dent's death. Someone had gotten to them, but it had not been Batman. He did not kill. Which was a problem, because she did not either and neither did Jim. But someone was going to have to.

So she strategized. She studied her notebooks, scoured her brain, looking for any insight into a psychopath's mind. He never seemed to have any definite plan, in fact, he hated it. He tried to create chaos. Chaos, by definition, had no plan. It just was. He did things arbitrarily, on a whim, a bomb here, a kiss here. It all crested confusion and confusion created bedlam. A man with no plan was impossible to catch.

She knew deep down they would never seize him or draw him out. He was going to come on his own terms. She was going to have to live and let live. One day it would happen.

It was, obviously, when she least expected it. She was standing in the mile-long checkout line at the supermarket, one of the few that had managed to stay open despite the looting. Bored and tired, not to mention uncomfortable with the looks she was getting, Tanya stared out into space. Her jacket was making her too warm. She shrugged it off, turning to avoid hitting the woman to the side of her. That is when she saw him. Wearing typical winter attire, the Joker blended in perfectly with the crowd. A scarf covered his scars and a beanie blanketed his green-tinted hair. But Tanya would know those eyes anywhere. They were glinting at her gleefully, taunting her to come out and play. She contemplated ignoring him, or making a mad dash for it out of the store. She realized that if she panicked, the rest of the patrons in the store would panic as well. It would create chaos.

Damn it.

She pushed her cart as nonchalantly as she could out of the line and back down an aisle under the pretense of having forgotten something. She abandoned it around the nearest corner and made her way back to the front and toward the man leaning on the display of Cheerios. He did not say anything but turned and made his way casually out of the automatic doors of the store. She followed. The pair crossed the icy blacktop of the parking lot and piled into a drab looking Toyota. She tried to climb into the passenger seat but he had shook his head and tossed her the keys, directing her silently to drive.

"Where?" she asked.

"Wherever you want to go." He snapped the passenger door shut and snuggled comfortably into the seat. Tanya's mind began formatting a strategy. Where should she go? To Jim? The police? Or just drive and hope Batman would find her? She stopped herself. No plan, she reminded her brain silently. With difficulty, she stopped strategizing. Instead she drove on auto pilot, unsure of where she was headed. The Joker seemed content. He unwrapped the scarf from his face and cranked up the heater.

"Long time no see." Tanya ventured at conversation.

"Miss me?" he smiled crookedly at her. "Or is Jimmy- boy keeping you company?" Of course he knew.

"Well, something could be said for having a roommate who doesn't threaten to kill you," Tanya said the first thing that came to mind. No plan. No plan. He laughed heartily.

"That's so boring. I bet the sexual chemistry is nothing compared to us." _Us_. Like they were an item. He saw them as a pair. A romantic pair?

"Yes, but what's the good of tension if nothing ever comes from it?" Shit. Why did she say that? Surely, she didn't want anything to come from it. Right?

"So you're sleeping with him? I think you've got a thing for scars, sweet cheeks."

"No we're not sleeping together. I can't seem to shake the last few experiences I've had with sex. Emotional scarring and all that. Anyway, I think it's you who's got a thing for scars. You love giving them out."

"I just want the world to smile," the tone in which he said this was creepy, as well as the smile he gave her to punctuate it. "But I think that I must inform you, a full smile is better than half. Not that I won't get around to finishing his eventually." Leave it to him to wrap sexual innuendo and terrifying death threats into one statement.

"I don't know about that. I always preferred genuine emotion to a total lack of empathy." He laughed, louder than she had ever heard.

"What do I have to do to bring you around? God, you're like the Bat."

"You made out with Batman?" The laugh sounded again.

"You've got him beat with your sense of humor. And your womanliness."

"That's nice to know. I always wondered who had the better body between us." God, where was this wit coming from?

"Well the Bat does have that whole tall, dark and handsome thing chicks dig. What I want to know is how both of you manage to be incorruptible?"

"Can't kill me until I tell you?"

The laugh. "Seems like it."

"Then there is really no motivation for me to tell you, is there?"

"Unless I torture it out of you." She didn't react. "Ah, but you're the type to endure silently aren't you?" her silence was his response. "The most I ever got out of you was in your apartment. But those weren't really words, just sounds." He was baiting her now. "Maybe that's your secret."

"My secret?" she wanted to hear this.

"Your kryptonite. Affection."

"Well, if it is, that's great, because you're incapable of showing it."

"Who ever said that?" he reached over and draped an arm across her lap, gently nuzzling her neck. "I bet I can be as affectionate as Jimbo, probably more."

"I doubt it." The words came out forced. Why did she want him to prove her wrong? The realization hit her. She didn't want to defeat him; she wanted to save him. She wanted him to come out of it, to stop on his own. She wanted to heal those scars, inside and out. Her heart plummeted. What length would she go through to do it? Would she betray Jim? They were not official, but she did love him on some level. And if she did this, would it work? Would life ever be normal? Would she ever be normal again?

Could she save them both? Or, should she cut her losses?

He was trailing kisses up her neck and her hands unconsciously turned the wheel, propelling them into an empty parking lot. The Joker reached over and turned off the ignition.

"Looks like you want to find out." He pulled the beanie off of his head and started to remove his scarf, all the while smiling.

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	13. Chapter 13

Tanya was certain that if her heart did not slow down it was going to explode. Blood pounded furiously in her ears and loathe as she was to admit it, other more intimate places as well. She did not understand it, this attraction. She tried to will herself to start the car, to open the door and flee, hell, to just move away from him and his oh so smoldering touch. But her muscles protested, keeping her firmly locked in place. The Joker undid her seatbelt with a hollow click that barely registered in her mind. He pulled her toward him, one hand cradling the back of her head and the other snaking itself around her waist. His lips found her neck again. Tanya's hand came up to fist a handful of his hair with the intention of pulling him away. Instead, the Joker pulled her even closer, until her body was hovering in the space between the driver and passenger seats. His lips were moving, trailing over her collarbone and up to nibble on her ear. She gasped softly and leaned in. God, what was wrong with her? She needed to figure this out before whatever he was doing to her got out of hand…

Who was she kidding? She was in a car in an abandoned parking lot with a notorious psychopath, practically straddling him as he accosted her neck with his mouth, and she was enjoying it. It was already out of hand. She had to be crazy. She had not been intimate with anyone since the rape; even she and Jim only exchanged brief kisses. Yet here she was, with a man who was undeniably bad for her (and society as a whole). And she wanted him. Damn it, she wanted him.

And apparently he wanted her, at least for now. Or he was damn good at pretending. He was removing layers now, the soft wool of her sweater slipped over her head and got lost somewhere on the dashboard. His other hand groped for the lever at the base of his seat, causing it to fall backward. Surprisingly seamlessly, he rolled them into the backseat. Tanya's back hit the cushions and braced herself for his body to come crashing down on hers. It never happened. He caught himself, propping his form up with and outstretched forearm. Hit other hand was caressing her legs through her jeans.

"How did you get so good at this?" the question was breathy.

"Practice makes perfect," he chuckled softly.

She wondered who he practiced on and when. Was it before the scars? After? Before the lack of empathy? Or was there someone else as insane as she was? Were the participants willing or did he just-

Thought ceased when he pressed his lips to hers. He was taking no prisoners. He coaxed her mouth open, much to her horror and deepened the kiss. Fuck, he was good at this. It made no sense. It occurred to her that before he was what he was now, he had been a man. A man who had normal urges and had obviously gotten damn good at…

His following actions erased her ability to think or do anything except exactly what he wanted her to do. His mouth and hands were everywhere. Clothes mysteriously disappeared and the windows fogged. Anyone who happened to drive by at the time might have noticed that the car in the dark corner of the abandoned parking lot was rocking so hard that the shocks were getting a workout. If you had gotten close enough, you might have been able to hear the sounds, not words, but something far more primal. And if you got right up to the windows, and looked in through the fogged glass you might have just seen the single, brown palm pressed to the glass, leaving a trail behind it as it slid down the window, spent with the effort of lovemaking. What you probably would not have guessed was who the two people were: the Clown Prince of Chaos and who should have been his latest prey.

Afterward, Tanya wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down onto her, using gravity to hold him in place. She needed him to stop, just for a moment, just until she got her thoughts together. Their bodies were pressed together, slick with perspiration despite the fact that the surrounding atmosphere was damn near freezing. It felt comfortable to her, being huddled together in the confined space of the backseat. She was trying to regulate her breathing enough to say something, anything, to break the moment and get her thinking logically again. She studied the soft lines of his face, tracing the curve of his jaws with her eyes. In this single moment, his eyes were soft and unguarded, without the flicker of hatred. His face was innocence personified, the complete opposite of what the world thought of him. The scars stood out, a sign of some sort of terrible pain in his past, something she doubted even he remembered. She pondered the phenomena and the ever spreading need to bring him back from the pain. To show him that good was not something as rare as he thought it was.

"Can I ask you something?" He lifted his head to meet her eyes.

"What, do you want to be on top?" his voice had a twinge of his trademark humor and his eyes flashed.

"Why'd you pick me?" it was the million dollar question, the one that could answer them all. The Joker seemed to understand it without further clarification.

"There are certain people that are worthy opponents. You're one of them. Everyone else perpetrates a fraud, puts on a nice face, but they are easily broken. Just one tiny push, and you've got them. But you and the Batman? You're more of a challenge."

"Batman I understand, but me?" she figured that this was the only time she might get an honest answer.

"You're like two sides of the same coin. He's got all the brute strength, you have your womanly wiles." the finger quotation marks went up around 'womanly wiles.'

"And if you break me, that is it; game over? You're just going to kill me?" He leaned in, pulling her into his arms. One hand went under her head and the other was cradling her backside.

"I figure I'd keep you around." His breath was warm against her ear. His tone of voice was low and sensual, and she had a feeling she knew just what he would keep her around for. A psychopathic soul mate. She could never be that. A soul mate maybe, but evil? That was not in the cards for her. Of that she was sure.

"I can't do that," it was a simple proclamation. But to Tanya just saying it, and really meaning it, meant the world. She could not do that. She would not become that. Even now, even after this.

The Joker, as always, seemed unconcerned. "Maybe not now. But that's what makes it interesting."

"Not ever," she protested. "Not when you are the way you are."

"Ah, but love is blind," he scrunched his face up. "Or at least, so I'm told."

"I don't love you," the confession came out blurted and entirely too fast.

"Sure you don't. Say whatever helps you sleep at night," he picked absently at his fingernails.

"I don't," She told herself that was not even a possibility, even as doubt crept into her.

"Uh-huh. Which is why you're here right now. Instead of say, at a police station, or somewhere more public, where the Bat can find you." He looked at her smugly, shifting his weight between her legs. "Face it, sugar, I've hooked you. Now all I have to do is reel you in."

Tanya's mouth hung open, gaping like a fish. She could think of nothing to say to refute his claims. The evidence against her was overwhelming. She slept with him. Oh God, she slept with him. He won. The grin on his face was unbearable.

"You want to just give up now, baby, or is this going to take another couple months?" He raised his eyebrows, his eyes glistening.

"Why not make a game out of it?" She desperately played the last card she had. He smiled at the idea.

"A game?"

"Winner takes all." She knew she had his attention.

"I like it. What are the stakes?"

"They're simple. I win, and I save you; you turn yourself in, you stop doing what you're doing. You win, and you get me." All of the cards were on table.

"No rules?"

"Would you play by them anyway?" He laughed and smiled widely, an expression of boyish glee on his face.

"So let me get this straight. You try to get me to see the world your way, and I try to get you to see the world my way?"

"So either one of us goes insane or one of us comes back to sanity. And neither of us can kill the other." Tanya added quickly, "and family members are off limits."

"Way to take the fun out of life," he sighed dramatically.

"Can't make it too easy for you."

"That's why I love you," the words left his lips casually, but the expression that flickered over his face for the briefest of seconds betrayed that he had made a grave mistake. It was Tanya's turn to smirk. At least they were on even playing ground.

"Agreed?"

"Let's the games begin." They shook on it.

15 minutes later, he pulled up in front of the supermarket. Tanya adjusted her scarf and replaced her hat.

"Until we meet again, sweetheart." She climbed out of the car nonchalantly and swung her bag over her shoulder.

"May the sane woman win," she said by way of goodbye. Her mind reeled with the fact that she had finally managed to get a man to love her, and his idea of showing it was assaulting her at all hours of the day. She sighed inwardly, knowing that the agreement she had just made had sentenced her to a life of solitude. She had to tell Jim, and get away from him, for his own safety. The Joker's laughter echoed in her ears as he peeled out of the parking lot. He drove out into traffic without so much as signaling, causing a three car pileup and an outrageous din of honks, screeching tires, twisting metal and shattering glass. Tanya began heading toward the street in an attempt to help when all of the cars surrounding her in the parking lot suddenly exploded. She was thrown to the ground, spread eagle on her back. Smoke and flames leaped up near her and patrons were running about, screaming and hollering frantically.

Damn that man to hell, Tanya thought as she drug herself up from the smoldering asphalt. It was unlikely that any of the police or other authority was going to show up for quite some time. People poured out of the store with buckets and bags of ice, tying to douse the flames. She stood in the exact and obvious center of all of the chaos. How in the hell did he plan for things like this? She clambered over the smoldering remains of what had been a minivan.

"Oh, Jesus, not you again!" one of the bystanders shouted. "Can't you just leave town or die already?"

"Yeah," the mob mentality was already beginning. She was painfully reminded of the Joker's theory about 'civilized people.' "The Joker follows you everywhere you go! Damn it, why do you have to bring us all into it?" supporters and other angry people were gathering around her.

"Fine, I'll go. And when he kills me, he can get back to murdering you all at random instead of focusing on me all of the time!' she yelled back in frustration. That successfully shut them up for the time being, but many still grumbled. After making sure no one was seriously injured, Tanya fished around her bag for her phone. She hit the button for the first number on speed dial, pressing a hand to her ear to drown out the sound of sirens in the background. After a few rings, she heard the Commissioner's voice on the other line. After she had decided to refuse police custody or security of any type, he had given her his number with instructions to call at anytime.

"Everything ok?" he asked by way of greeting.

"I'm standing in the middle of the Joker's latest handiwork. And I've got something to tell you that you and our mutual friend might find interesting," she sounded tired and resigned.

There was a deep sigh on the other line. "I'll pick you up."

**A/N: Ok, I keep trying to wrap it up, and it keeps on getting longer and longer. Let me know if it's worth continuing by dropping a review. Thanks to all of those who reviewed the last chapter! Hopefully I can tie it all together soon!**


	14. The End?

The courtroom was jam-packed. Cameras and reporters were packed into the media area, and nearly half of the city had turned up. It had taken a small miracle to get a jury assembled; those originally selected had refused, scared of the consequences. In the end, the jury was a hodgepodge of people who either had nothing to lose, or who were curious enough or stupid enough to agree to sentence the most notorious criminal that Gotham had ever seen.

The Ace of Knaves was sitting at the defendants' table, his makeup as immaculate as it had ever been. His lips were quirked in a small and amused smile, as though the whole trial was inconsequential. Tanya believed that to him it was. His capture had been far too easy to assuage her fears. Only a few people had been injured in the effort. He had been in the midst of another scheme of sorts, trying to blow up Wayne Enterprises. Batman and the police had brought him down before any major damage had been done. It was too simple, too clean cut. Gordon knew this as well, and had made sure that he had no contact with anyone from his cell. Tanya was not surprised that he made no attempt to escape. She was sure he had a reason for it. She was trying to figure out what it was. There was not too much time to dwell on it; she had been asked by the prosecution to testify against him. Though he had countless victims, few were willing to stand in front of him in order to put him away. Tanya readily agreed; their deal insured that she and her family would be safe if she did so. A few others agreed as well, Mike Engel and Jim, and a few police officers, firefighters and other miscellaneous victims. Most of the others were either dead, or had long since vacated the city.

Tanya nervously smoothed her skirt and straightened her blouse. She was decked in appropriate court apparel, unlike many others crammed into the narrow space. The trial was taking place in the largest courtroom available in the city, and it still looked as though its occupants were sardines in a can. Most were concentrated along the walls in the back, nearest to the door and convenient for a quick exit. Tanya flicked her eyes through the crowd, recognizing the faces of many of Gotham's most notorious criminals, but none that looked like the Joker's henchmen. They were already in prison, their trials short and to the point. The Joker's had dragged on. It was now the fifth day of a trial that should have been short, and witnesses and evidence was still being presented. The evidence against the Joker should have been irrefutable. But his lawyers had played the only card they had: an insanity plea.

Tanya, and Batman, did not believe for a moment that the Joker was insane. He obviously knew and understood all of his actions but the reasoning behind his actions was known only to himself. He was deranged, calculating and showed a total lack of regard for humanity. But he was not insane. An insane man would not sit there as though the whole thing was amusing, occasionally smirking and winking at various people in attendance. His lawyers pointedly avoided his gaze, enveloped in paperwork and briefs. She wondered who on Earth had been persuaded to take that job. It was probably a team of mob lawyers. Her train of thought was interrupted when she spotted Bruce Wayne, notorious playboy and multimillionaire, standing in the back corner of the courtroom looking inconspicuous. What was he doing here? Perhaps the last attack had struck close enough to home to get him to pay attention to what was actually going on in Gotham instead of the reconstruction of his mansion. Or maybe it had something to do with Rachel Dawes, who she knew had been his best friend before she fell to one of the Joker's plots. The scene now was strikingly similar to one of the first stories she had covered, the trial of the man who had murdered Wayne's parents. She felt a pang of sympathy for him. His face was the picture of collectedness, but something in the crease of his brow suggested that even Bruce Wayne could be hurt.

The judge banged his gavel loudly, trying to silence the loud buzz in the courtroom. After several minutes, and some shouts from the 15 or so bailiffs in the room, the room fell silent.

"This is day five of the trial against the Joker. Will the prosecutors please present their next witness?"

One of the lawyers , Gilbert Tompkins, a man in the running to be the new D.A., stood up.

"Your honor, the prosecution would like to call journalist Tanya Heathrow to the stand." Tanya's heart skipped in her breast. She had known the moment would come, but she was not entirely prepared. She felt hundreds of pairs of eyes flicker over to her in one moment. The only sounds were the scratching of pen on paper, the click of the typewriter and the occasional sounds of someone shifting in their seats. She stood steadily, smoothing her hair and skirt. The Joker smiled pleasantly at her. He was dressed in his normal costume, forgoing the suggestion from his lawyers to look presentable. He lifted his handcuffed hands and finger waved at her.

"Hey, gorgeous," he mouthed. She ignored him and strode to the stand. She sat down in the small booth and looked out over the courtroom. It was a curious thing to see so many of her colleagues and competitors furiously writing. She was the news right now, the last major Joker victim. She knew that many of the people out in the audience had turned up to hear her testimony. She prayed it would be good. Bruce Wayne was studying her with intense scrutiny. The look was somewhat familiar. Where had she seen it before?

"Miss Heathrow?" a bailiff interrupted her thoughts. "Place your right hand on the Bible and repeat after me please." Tanya did as she was told. She saw Tompkins stride toward her. She took a deep breath.

"Miss Heathrow, could you repeat your name for the record please?" she did so. "Miss Heathrow, is it true that the Joker kidnapped you on November 17th of last year?"

"Yes it is." So far so good.

"Could you describe it please?" Tanya had prepared for this. She recited the well thought out story just as it had been practiced over and over in her head.

"And how long were you kept in captivity?"

"I'm not sure how many days passed, but it was at least a week or more before the incident involving the banks."

"And did the Joker force you to read his terrorist demands?"

"He did."

"How so?"

"He had made it clear previous to the incident that if I did not comply, my family, who he knew a lot about, would be threatened."

"I see," Tompkins paced in front of her. The questions and answers continued onward very routinely. She could sense that they were losing the interest of the crowd. Tanya was relieved. The only two people whose eyes never left hers were Wayne and the Joker.

"No further questions, your honor." Tompkins concluded. The Judge nodded.

"Your honor?" the leader of the team of defendants rose. "We request that the witness be left on the stand. The defendant would like to cross-examine Miss Heathrow."

Tanya's eyebrows rose ever so slightly. She noticed that Wayne's expression mirrored her own. She glanced at the Joker. His face was the same as ever, but a corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly. Tanya felt her stomach flip. What was he going to do?

"Miss Heathrow," the lawyer, Richard Heartz, began, "We would just like to question you about one incident in particular. What happened on January 26, 2009?"

The day at the grocery store. The Joker's mouth twitched again. Tanya felt her heart drop. "Would you like me to describe the whole day?" she stalled.

"Just from the moment you supposedly encountered the defendant at the grocery store will do." Heartz said in a condescending tone.

"Well, I arrived at the grocery store and after shopping I was standing in the checkout line. The temperature was rather warm because of how many people were there. And I turned around to take the jacket off without hitting anyone, and I saw the Joker."

"And what was the Joker wearing?"

"Normal looking winter clothes. He had a beanie on over his hair and a scarf covering most of his face."

"Any makeup?"

"No."

"Was his hair visible?"

"No, but-"

"Well then, how are you sure it was him?"

Tanya bristled. "When you've been kidnapped and stalked by the same person for weeks and weeks, you tend to recognize them, makeup or not." The spectators stirred. The Joker's smile increased.

"Very well, Miss Heathrow, what happened after that?"

"I went to him."

"On your own?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I had enough experience to assume that if I didn't, he would do something detrimental to the others in the store."

"Did he do anything?"

"No."

"Did the defendant actually attempt to ever kill you?"

"He kidnapped me. He threatened me and my family, he blew up a bank and multiple other buildings. I would think that the answer to that question is inconsequential in comparison to the multitude of other sins he has committed." The crowd burst into applause. It took the judge several minutes to calm them.

"Heartz, that's enough," he admonished. "Miss Heathrow, you may leave the stand, you have supplied more than enough evidence." Tanya stood up quickly and retook her allotted seat. The Joker's eyes followed her the entire time. He winked at her. She pointedly avoided his glance. Something told her that she had narrowly escaped having her troubled sex-life broadcast to the entire city.

"The prosecution may call their next witness to the stand."

Tompkins was up. "We call the Joker to the stand." A collective gasp went up through the room and there was a flurry of motion. This was a bold move on the prosecutions part. It could either prove that he was guilty, or lend evidence to the claim that he was insane. Tanya had a sinking feeling. A look of panic flitted over her face, Gordon's face, and if anyone had bothered to look at Bruce Wayne, they would have saw it flicker across his as well. It was over. There were only three people in the city that could even begin to understand the supposed madness of the Joker. The Jury would be sure to think he was insane.

And insanity meant Arkham Asylum, not prison or the death sentence.

Tanya knew in her heart that the Asylum did not mean the end of it. It was just a break before his next 'performance.'

The Joker stood up, his hands still handcuffed in front of him. When told to place his hands on the Bible and asked to swear the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth he looked amused.

"Of course. All I tell is the truth," had been his reply. The room was silent. The Joker sat innocently, popping his lips and swaying slightly to a tune only he knew. Tompkins adjusted his tie tensely, trying to disguise his nervousness.

"Do you have a name?"

"You already know it," the Joker responded calmly.

"So you are unaware of any other name that might identify you?" The Joker's eyebrows lifted in mirth.

"Big words aren't going to get you a different answer," he smiled. "Now come on, Gil, ask me that question that'll get you elected D.A. Hopefully you'll last longer than the last one." His eyes were shining.

"Alright then, if that's how you want to play." Tompkins hardened his voice, trying to gain the upper hand. Tanya felt sorry for him; he was playing right into the Joker's hands. He stood no chance. "What do you have against Gotham?"

"Ah, now we get to it," he leaned back, "I have nothing against Gotham personally. Oh no, no. It's more a problem with the world as a whole. Gotham is just a starting point. You're by far the most interesting city I've come across. Not many others have their own superheroes. No it's nothing against Gotham personally. Once I prove my point here, I'll move on to easier cities. But Gotham is my masterpiece." he waved his hands as though brushing paint on a canvas.

"And what point are you trying to prove?" Tompkins looked a little shaken.

"That you guys, all of you sitting there judging, you're all just like me. Look at you. So quick to pin blame on me. I didn't make you loot the city into oblivion. I didn't make your cops and city officials crooked. I didn't make Gotham the place it is. I just gave it a little nudge. You did that all on your own."

"Are you insane?" Tompkins was practically screaming over the uproar that the Joker was causing.

"No more insane than any of you." He swept his eyes over the room pointedly. The occupants were jumping about, yelling and screaming. Some were trying to get to the Joker. One burly man managed to break down the barriers the bailiffs and police had created. He leapt onto the stand and cracked the Joker in the face with one softball sized fist. The Joker's cheek split and blood gushed forth, staining his white makeup pink. An officer tackled the man knocking him backward over the stand. The journalists were jostling, fighting to get the best pictures and angles. The jury was up and out of the room, lead away by a group of policemen. Commissioner Gordon was bellowing instructions at his men, who were trying to force the journalist out of the room, evacuate witnesses, keep the crowd from losing their mind and making sure that the Joker did not escape all at the same time.

Through the whole ordeal, the Joker laughed hysterically, by far the loudest sound echoing in the acoustics of the room. The Judge was banging his gavel and the Joker's lawyers were trying to restrain him. It was to no avail. It took a half hour to calm the chaos and evacuate the entire courtroom. The Joker was taken to another area within the building and the media were forced out, as were the witnesses. The only people remaining were the Jury, the Judge, Gordon and the prosecutors and defense team. It was time for the sentencing.

Tanya paced nervously in the room she had been placed in, alone. She needed to know what was going on. Her ignorance was driving her insane. A knock on the door startled her out of her frenzy. She swung the door open to come face-to-face with Bruce Wayne.

"May I join you?" he asked politely. He was like an advertisement out of GQ in his tailored suit. Wayne was a few inches taller than her, and his hair was brushed back in a chic coif. She nodded and stepped aside for him to enter.

"That was a brave thing you did, getting up on the stand like that." he had a deeper baritone than she would have imagined.

"Not really. It needed to be done."

"And yet you were one of the few who stepped up to do it," he was scrutinizing her again.

"Like I said, it needed to be done." Wayne smiled at her.

"Brave and beautiful," he shook his head as thought it were a rare phenomena. Tanya realized with annoyance that she may have just become the playboy's next target. He was leaning on a desk now, obviously debating saying something.

"You know, that's the first trial I've been to since the one where my parent's murder got off. I'm not sure which one is worse." A stab of sympathy shot through her. She made her way toward him and gently rested her hand on his couture-clad arm. She could think of nothing to say, so she smiled at him. He seemed to understand. Her phone buzzed in her purse, breaking the moment. She looked at him apologetically and fished it out of her bag. Gordon's number was blinking on the screen.

"I have to take this," she said. He nodded.

"No problem," he kissed her hand. "Stay strong, this city needs someone like you." with that he was gone. Tanya didn't have time to ponder the sensitive side of Bruce Wayne as she picked up the phone.

"What happened?" she sounded out of breath.

"Found guilty," Tanya opened her mouth to exclaim relief but was cut off, "Guilty, but insane."

"Oh…" so the game continued, "What does that mean?"

"It means Arkham. With extra security of course."

"That will be enough. Right?"

"I hope so." Gordon sounded tired. "At least it's over," he left off the unspoken 'for now.'

"Right," Tanya agreed too enthusiastically. "It's over."

The empty room echoed as Tanya hung up her phone and left the room, clicking the door shut behind her.

**A/N: Oh man, I could keep going indefinitely, but school is starting up again and so this story must come to an end. Please, please, please review and let me know what you think of it. Don't make me withhold the epilogue! (just kidding…or am I?)**


	15. Epilogue: Let Round Two Begin

It had taken Tanya some serious effort, string-pulling, favor-promising, and slight abuse of her press pass and status to get to the place she was now. But it was all worth it. She needed to talk to him. Spring was just dawning in Gotham, and with it, the hope that the worst was now over. Tompkins had indeed been voted as Gotham's new D.A. and the attention had turned from catching the now in-captivity Joker to catching Batman. Tanya thought it was a waste of time; unless the Batman wanted to be captured (much like his enemy) they didn't have a prayer of finding him. Besides, with the Batman gone, criminals would run rampant, and everyone knew it. The citizens were just bored, and they contented themselves with petty demands for someone to be captured. As much as no one would ever admit it, the average citizen loved drama in any form.

The pathway to the doors of Arkham Asylum was made of dirty cobblestone. Lodged in between each stone was a rather drab looking type of moss Tanya had never seen before and could not identify. The building gave off the impression of a fortress or dungeon more than an institution. Over all, it only needed some storm clouds and lightening and perhaps a menacing organ-based melody to complete the ensemble of a haunted house. The occupants of said building didn't make it any less scary. Though most may have been harmless enough without a ringleader, certain parts of the building housed the most evil of Gotham's villains, including Scarecrow, the man who had been Batman's first major conquest. It now housed the Joker.

Tanya passed by guard after guard, stopping at a multitude of checkpoints before she even reached the double doors of the Asylum. Once inside, she was escorted to the elevator by a small, heavily armed force. She was forced to change into approved clothing, with no zippers, buttons or any kind of anything that could be used as a weapon, even the clips in her hair. She made her way down another hall- escorted of course- and another elevator and then one final hall and she was there. Posted outside of a small, gray metal door with only a slot for a window was what looked like a miniature army. They remained unmoving as she passed them. They obviously knew she was coming. One swung open the heavy metal door, then a second door and she was in. The guard nodded at her, then shut the door, standing just outside of it.

The room was drab and barren, painted a bright white that was nearly blinding under the fluorescent light fixtures in the ceiling. There was only a bed and a single chair that appeared to be built out of concrete directly out of the floor. The Joker was lounging calmly on the twin mattress, feet crossed and swaying as he hummed. His eyes were closed, and his face was clean, thanks to the guards. He was also lacking his trademark suit and jacket which had been replaced with a white suit nearly identical to the one Tanya was wearing. He looked perfectly content. The room wasn't padded as movies would have you believe, but instead made of perfectly smooth concrete. She noticed that there was no camera, or anything that could be pried off of the wall and used as a weapon. The city was crossing their fingers that guards, guns and locks would keep him in. Tanya walked calmly over to the chair near the bed and sat down. She knew he knew she was here. Sure enough, a moment later his eyes flicked open.

"Ah, I was wondering when you would get around to visiting me," his smile was just as sinister without the paint.

"Called in a few favors, but here I am." she shifted, trying to get comfortable in the chair. She gave up after a few seconds; comfort here was clearly impossible.

"The tax payers' dollars all went to the security, I'm afraid." the Joker quipped, noticing her futile efforts. "But you can join me up here." he patted the bed.

"Why'd you let yourself get caught?" she asked instead of responding.

"It's always straight to the point with you," he sighed dramatically. "No time for romance. A man's got needs you know."

"When you decide to be a normal man, drop me a line," he laughed at her not-so-subtle hint.

"Still not budging? Ah well, we have time. So tell me, have any breakthroughs on how you're going to win this one? I think I have a one-up on you."

"Unless that was all just part of my plan to win," He laughed again.

"Don't tell me you didn't get anything out of our little 'exchange.' It sure sounded like you did. I didn't make you pull into that parking lot," he looked innocent, but his eyes show in amusement.

"You never answered my question," she evaded, fearing someone overhearing.

"Still not ready to talk about it," he clicked his tongue, "Such a shame. They're all going to find out eventually you know. Might as well have it be on your terms."

"As opposed to yours? At say, a public trial?" she had been meaning to talk to him about that little stunt. "Does your lawyer know?" He laughed. She found it less than amusing.

"That mob fool? No. He's scared shitless of me. I guess he's a big proponent of keep your friends close and your enemies closer. But you impressed me, the way you wiggled out of that one. You know, if you would have lied, I would have been that much closer to winning the battle for your soul."

"Is that what we're fighting for now, souls?"

"Isn't it?" his gaze was piercing.

"I didn't know you believed in souls," it was true.

"Of course," he did not elaborate. Tanya chose not to push it. Instead, she reattempted trying to get him to answer her first question.

"So why the charade of a trial?"

"Charade?" he asked innocently.

"You know as well as I do that they would have never caught you unless you wanted them to." He laughed.

"You put a lot of faith in me," he looked at her pointedly. She shook it off.

"I've had experience. So why?"

"For multiple reasons." Tanya cocked her eyebrows as if to pressure him to continue. "Beside the excellent opportunity it was to prove my point about the citizens of this city," he motioned to the cut still healing on his cheek, "I needed to find something out."

"And what was that?"

"Who the Batman is," he smiled.

"And you could find that out from a trial?" she scoffed just a bit.

"I did." he smiled widely at her. "Don't tell me you didn't?" Tanya looked at him incredulously. "Come on, doll," he sat up. "No one stood out to you in that whole performance? You didn't notice anyone who kept their cool when everyone else fell right into my trap?" her confused expressions made him laugh. "You're losing your touch."

Tanya racked her brains. Who had been at that trial that had stood out? She ran through her mental inventory of faces. It came to her in one moment. The realization sparked in her eyes. It could not be. But there it was, his face calm in a sea of chaos, his comments to her, words that she was so quick to brush off as flirtations, they had been words of encouragement. And suddenly it all made since, the pain of his past, how Batman stayed so well financed, his playboy public persona. It was all brilliantly crafted. Bruce Wayne….

The Joker saw the realization hit her. "It looks like we have several more players in our little game."

"He was already in it," she pointed out.

"Only one half of him. The other side is just human." Tanya prayed he was wrong. She needed to talk to Wayne ASAP. "Oh, but you're just going to tell him I know. You goody-goodies are always so predictable."

"So are you," she shot back. "How long are you going to stay in here?"

He laughed. "This place is inescapable," he gestured to the double doors, the lack of windows, the guards and the small vents in the wall that Tanya knew could pump some sort of toxic gas in at the first sign of trouble.

"Which is exactly why you're going to escape." He leaned in closer to her.

"So you do know me, at least better than those fools down in law enforcement."

"I make it a habit to know the men I sleep with willingly." His face was inches from her own. She fought down the urge to press her lips to his.

"Ah! You admit it. So tell me, did you clue old Jim in?"

"He knows enough," and he did. She had told him that he was not safe around her. It had taken some harsh words and more than a couple of arguments, but she had finally pushed him away. Maybe if she hurt his feeling bad enough, he would give up on her. It nearly killed her, but she would not be responsible for his life, or death. She had even quit her job to further distance herself from him, from everyone.

"That's a no then." She nodded slightly. "Well I hope he at least was smart enough to get out of Gotham. I never did learn how to share in preschool," he bit his lip, letting his lips draw back in a indolent smile.

"So just so we're on the same page. The people involved in this game are now you, me and Batman." Tanya tried not to focus on the lazy pout of his lips. The smile slowly widened. He leaned further in.

"And a few other miscellaneous pawns," his hands were on her legs now, trailing up slowly. "How much longer did you get Gordon to let you have?" his voice was a seductive whisper.

"Just a few minutes more," she breathed back. "Not long enough for what you want to do. Besides, I reserve the right to do that, especially when there are people right outside the door."

His low chuckle blew warm air past her ear. "Right. We'll see how long that lasts. You know, you could just give in now. You can walk out of here on my arm."

"Not a chance," she closed the few inches remaining between them. Their kiss would have been normal under different circumstances, for instance, if their troubled romance was not a secret and one of them was not a murdering lunatic. But in that single, sweet kiss, it almost seemed like things would work out. She pulled back.

"Game's still on then?" she nodded.

"Same rules?"

"I won't touch your family." She looked him in the eye. "Or have anyone else touch them," he rolled his eyes. "Have a little faith."

"Earn it first," she kissed him again. "See you when you get out. Please don't kill anyone if you can help it."

"We'll see," he smiled widely. "See you around, sugar," he chucked her under the chin. "Say hello to the Bat for me." He laid back down on the bed as though nothing had passed between them.

As though on cue, the guard who had let her in swung the door open, his gun trained on the Joker. The Joker's eyes were again closed and he paid the guard no attention. Tanya passed through the double doors again and was once again subjected to a security search. When they were satisfied that nothing had come out of the room that was not supposed to, she was escorted down a different hall then the original one. This one was lined with prisoners in lower security holdings. If the intent of taking her down this hall was to scare her, it certainly worked. The prisoners, mostly men, were all mumbling incessantly to themselves, screaming or banging the bars on their doors every so often. Though she tried not to portray fear, Tanya shied closer to the guards. It probably said something about her psyche that the Joker didn't frighten her, but these people did. As the small procession passed one particular door, the man inside threw himself at the window, practically snarling at the guards.

"I want my coin back," he spat through the bars. Tanya's eyes widened and she instinctively backed away, nearly into the other wall. The prisoner's face was horribly disfigured, burnt beyond recognition, without eyebrows, eyelids, cheeks or lips. It was truly horrifying. Tanya's stomach turned with a mixture of pity and revulsion. A guard banged on the door, forcing the man back. He backed away slowly, his un-lidded eye trained on Tanya. As he turned his head, she noticed that only one half of his face was scarred. The guards hurried her through the remainder of the hall, but she could still feel the gaze of the man as she entered the elevator. Who was he and what had happened to him? She asked the guards, but none of them even acknowledged the fact that she had spoken. They hurried her through the rest of the checkout, where her belongings were given back to her. She was practically shoved out of the doors.

"We are correct in assuming that you were never here, right Miss Heathrow?" an elderly man said pointedly as he pushed her outside of the gates of the facility.

"Of course," she stammered. The cast-iron fence shut her out. She hurried to her car, unable to shake the image of the man from her mind. He had looked familiar. The more she thought about it, the more recognizable he became. Who was he? The pieces fit together as she turned onto the main highway into Gotham. Oh God. She quickly changed course, in the direction of the newly-restored Wayne mansion.

The person in that cell was Harvey Dent, but not as she knew him. The Joker had mentioned another pawn.

She was sure that when he escaped, it would not be alone.

She needed to tell Batman.

Her car sped off in the direction of the mansion. The game had deepened. Hopefully it was still in her control. The Joker she could handle; the Joker she grudgingly loved and he grudgingly felt the same. But this new one. She was going to need the Batman on this one. Both parts of him.

It was Bruce Wayne and Tanya on one side, and this new, two-faced enemy and the Joker on the other,

Let the game continue….

**A/N: I know that is a somewhat infuriating ending and for that I offer a thousand apologies. But the characters are so complex that they really can't be explored by me in the short window of winter break. Some of you have asked me about a sequel. I can't make any promises, except for this, I could go on forever with this, but we will see what time allows. For now though, this story has ended. I appreciate everyone who reviewed! You were all super helpful and hopefully I can find the time to give you guys want you want. In the meantime, please drop a last review and tell me what you think of the story overall. I hope I did Heath Ledger's compelling character justice. R.I.P. Heath, and congratulations on your Golden Globe award.**


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